Obsession
by writerbug85
Summary: Captain James Hook is a patient man and waits until Wendy Darling has just crossed the threshold of adulthood before exacting his revenge on her, and eventually Peter Pan. But when confronted by the beautiful and headstrong woman, will his needs change?
1. Chapter 1: Roses In December

ROSES IN DECEMBER

"God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December." — J.M. Barrie

He could be a patient man, if the need glaringly presented itself. His vengeance could wait, should wait, more like. The frighteningly twisted scheme concocted in his equally twisted mind required a more…matured victim. Horrific scenes, revolving mostly around him finally ripping _Pan _in twain with his hook, flitted through his mind as he ripped another apart with said appendage. Captain Hook cut his way out of that blasted crocodile and began the long swim back to the Jolly Roger. An image of wavy auburn hair and dancing green eyes tinged with flecks of grey resonated in his mind's eye. No, no that damned girl who had captured the attentions of his dearest enemy was only good to him a with a little more…ripening to her bones. His hook glistened in the moonlight as it aided him in hoisting up onto the offered rope that dangled from his ship's edge. Oh yes, he thought, as he climbed up the rope, exhausted yet driven by maddening rage. He had divested Neverland once and for all of the reptilian menace. Next would come Pan…at the hands of his _storyteller_. Oh revenge would be sweet indeed.

~Six Years Later~

"I shan't marry him, Papa. He's a boorish little snit of a man and a fool to compound it!"

A flustered tizzy of Wendy Darling crossed her arms and glared at her father. Wendy had grown, as children so often do, in the years since her sole excursion to Neverland. Though an average height, she was far from average in all other aspects. Her eyes, green orbs intermingled with grey, shone with wit and the vestiges of childlike mirth. Her mouth was full, supple, and pink. Her locks of auburn hair hung loose, their waviness giving her a near wild affect. Her hair cascaded down the creamy paleness of her bare shoulders, which were set in grim determination. Far from the foal-limbed youth she had once been, Wendy's form was now beset with voluptuous curves, made even more so by the tight corset ever-present around her slim waist. Wendy Darling had indeed become a beautiful woman, had it not been for an underlying temper that matched even the most foulest of pirates and a sharp tongue able to rip through the steeliest adversary's guard.

Mr. Darling sighed loudly and glared at his daughter.

"Every caller you've gotten you have denied, Wendy. You must marry, child."

Wendy cocked her chin high and returned his steely glare.

"All of these men were not suitable, Father."

"And how so? Were they not rich? Were they not handsome? Were they not of good families? Truly I cannot think of any suitors more…suitable."

"I do not wish to marry," Wendy said, though her thoughts drifted, as they were wont to do as of late, to a pair of cruel blue eyes and a swaggering, horrifyingly beautiful form. She shook the notion from her mind. Hook was evil. And would loathe being described as beautiful, even if he was as vain as she recalled.

In no mood for her headstrong sensibilities, her father's voice raised above his normal monotone. He leaned on the edge of the open parlor window and glared at his child, the pair fully unaware of the set of villainous ears listening intently to Mr. Darling's words.

"Mark my words, Wendy, the next man, I don't care whom he comes from, what he does, how old he is, or how boorish he is, the next man who walks through that door and asks for your hand will have it."

"Papa, no!"

"Young lady, you are to remain in your room until I see fit to allow you a reprieve from it."

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but Wendy held her composure until she had ascended the stairs and flopped unceremoniously onto her bed. The nursery, long since past the years wherein stories were told within its walls, had been converted into a bedroom fit for a young lady; the last loving efforts of her mother, whose bones lay cold in London's soil. Oh if only her mother were alive to comfort her now; if only Peter would _remember _her and take her back to Neverland where she would never have to grow further, would never have to marry, would never have to…but the notion was silly, Wendy realized, glaring down at her womanly figure, she had already grown. The thought brought about another bout of tears which were only silenced when the distinct ring of her doorbell sounded through the house. When a voice which had echoed in her nightmares and fantasies resounded in the hallway below, Wendy's blood rushed from her head, leaving her faint and tingling in such an inappropriate area she was shamed to think of it and surprised God did not strike her down for the sinfulness of it. Tiptoeing out of her room, Wendy peaked over the banister and caught a glimpse of the strangest sight she had yet beheld. Captain James Hook, in full terrifying pirate regalia, sat prim as you please in her drawing room, chatting with her father as if the action was an everyday occurrence.


	2. Chapter 2: Curious

"Curiosity is the lust of the mind."

Thomas Hobbes

As the voices from the men below drifted towards her ears, Wendy's temper flared. The Captain's silky voice cut through to her core.

"Of course I realize that such a stubborn sensibility in a female is a detriment, especially for a man in your position, Mr. Darling. But, if I may be so bold, I feel that under my…guidance, I'm sure that I can help her become a more than adequate wife."

Wendy paled. _Wife? _Blood throbbed in her ears and she could no longer hear the voices below of the men who had a hold of her fate. At length, her father stood and shook Captain Hook's good hand vigorously. He seemingly paid no heed to the hook replacing the Captain's right hand. Wendy ran back to her room, frantically trying to make sense of her predicament. How in Neverland had Captain Hook come to her world? And why had he sought her, of all people? Aside from her allegiance to Peter Pan, she had made no affronts to his person. _Well…besides her hand in bringing about his supposed death_. Pan. That's what it was, she realized with a surprising amount of pain and jealousy. It was always about Pan with Captain Hook. Her temper flared again and she was fully ready to tear the pirate apart when her father called her name. A wave of fear and uncertainty washed over her, reducing her rage.

"Yes, Papa?" She cursed the weakness of her voice.

"Come down here, my dear. I've someone very important with whom you need to speak."

"Shall this be my only reprieve, Papa?"

"Wendy," her father warned.

"I only mean to ask if I should be readying myself for the evening or should remain as I am."

The chortling laugh of Captain Hook eased her father's anger.

"Wendy, dear, please come down here now."

With a resigned sigh, Wendy descended the stairs, holding her head high to at least feign confidence. She smoothed her hands over the corseted bodice of her cream-colored gown. The dress was sleeveless; inappropriate for a social setting, but her father didn't pay much attention to her actions in the home, so long as they didn't reflect poorly on their family when she was in public. The dress had been her grandmother's, lovingly preserved by her mother, and found by Wendy a few months after her mother's passing. She had tailored the gown to fit her own proportions though left the bodice nearly untouched. As a result, the shoulder tailoring was slightly too large for her frame and the arms fell to reveal her neck, shoulders, and upper arms with such an unpurposeful air that she felt it suitable in her otherwise modest wardrobe. To venture out of doors in the gown would have been shameful indeed. She poised herself as she readied for her meeting with Captain Hook, silently wishing for a moment to check her reflection as she smoothed the gown yet again.

She balked at her own actions; why would she care how she looked to a malicious old pirate captain? When she met his gaze for the first time in six years, she remembered why.

...

...

By the gods she was beautiful. Hook's disparaging laugh hilted in his throat, which had run dry as the beauty descended the stairs. Oh, the revenge on the flying brat by stealing away his favored one would have been sweet enough, but to see the woman she had blossomed into and know he was to have her- by deception, force, or coercion, it mattered not- was sweet indeed. She held his gaze for a moment too long before he regained his composure. He removed his large-brimmed feathered hat and bowed as she entered the room; the sneer crossing his remarkably full lips was imperceptible to Mr. Darling, but Wendy's astute perusal of the Captain's form noted it and reared at it instantly, breaking the beatific hold his eyes had held over her mind. He stood upright again and looked down on the young lady before him, his eyes falling to gaze upon her full, softly heaving bosom with a wolfish appraisal. Oh yes, he would be sure to enjoy this.


	3. Chapter 3: Tenacity

"A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love."  
>Stendhal<p>

Wendy glared at the roguishly handsome pirate captain standing before her, smirking in such an infuriating manner that it was all she could do to keep herself from jumping across the room and tearing his eyes out. As it was, she stewed silently as Captain Hook grasped one of her primly manicured hands in his sole hand and raised it to his lips. The coarse black hair of his mustache tickled her digits as he pressed a slightly rough kiss to her hand.

"Ms. Darling, it is indeed a pleasure to see you again. I trust you've been well? You certainly look in very good health."

His eyes raked over her frame lecherously and Wendy blushed, feeling as if Hook was undressing her piece by piece with his cerulean gaze. Confused and somewhat angered by the strange churning feeling in the pit of her stomach, Wendy suddenly found herself at a loss for words. Her father smiled at Captain Hook, seemingly unaware of the man's stringent appraisal of his daughter.

"The Captain here has been telling me of your arrangement, Wendy. I cannot say that I am entirely pleased that you made these plans without my consent, daughter, but the Captain has assured me that it was his doing…and I cannot refuse a man such as he anything he wishes. So I've decided to give you my consent."

Wendy paled.

"Consent, Papa? Whatever for?"

Captain Hook cleared his throat.

"Now come, come, love," he said, his sickeningly sweet voice eating away at her insides. "Two years ago, almost to the day I believe, and you were on holiday at the sea. I had been docking my ship when I noticed a prone form fall into the sea. Imagine my surprise when I noticed your beautiful face bob above the waves before falling back into the sea. I jumped in after you and pulled you aboard my vessel…you were so dazed and confused and…wet," he lied, drawing out the last word, his eyes again fixated on her breasts.

He smiled, his gaze raising to meet her own, a mischievous glint sparking at her.

"You had said some horrid lad had broken your heart that morning in a letter. How cruel boys can be. What was his name again, pet? I can scarce remember. Paul? Parnell? Pan? Oh, no, no, _Peter_ wasn't it? He'd forgotten all about you and barely scribbled down the note that nearly sent you into a watery grave. But, as luck would have it, I was there to save you from heartache just as surely as I saved you from drowning. Shame I had to wait until you'd finished your schooling, but you insisted…and I'm loathe to deny you."

He smiled at Mr. Darling.

"Your charming daughter makes it so easy to adhere to her…desires, sir."

"And I can assure you that she has not been raised so spoilt that she would be a demanding bride," Mr. Darling said, smiling condescendingly at his daughter.

Captain Hook held in a scornful laugh at the obvious rage Wendy had barely quelled within herself.

"My only concern is the timeframe."

"Sir?"

"I am afraid that my trip to London is to be very short, and I must leave tomorrow noon."

Wendy smiled, relieved. There was no possible way her father would allow….

"Of course, dear Captain," Mr. Darling said, "I shall arrange the entirety myself for tomorrow morn. A very dear friend of mine is employed by our local bishop. I'm sure there would be no qualms about such a rushed union, given your circumstances."

Her jaw dropping in an unladylike fashion, Wendy could scarce believe to what her father had just consented.

"Papa! Imagine the scandal!"

"Silence, child. Women have been wed with far more haste and impropriety than this."

"And where shall I live, Captain," she ground out, addressing Hook for the first time. "Surely you would not tempt fate by harboring a woman on your fine vessel. Heaven forbid I should cause an ill wind which would cause you to lose another _vital_ appendage."

Captain Hook laughed outright at her incredulity, his forget-me-not eyes dancing with mirth.

"Wendy Darling, how I have missed you. Of course you shall live on my fine vessel. And as to my appendages, I am flattered that they so…_fill_ your concerns; I assure you, my beauty, that I fear no ill effects of my bride joining me on my ship. Truly, it may level the playing field for others if any bad luck should befall me on your behalf." He turned to her father and bowed, ever so slightly. "And, good sir, I do appreciate your offer, but I fear I have already arranged for a fellow captain to perform our nuptials at sea, as is customary for a man in my line of work."

Her father nodded, not caring in the least of her impending kidnapping. Wendy felt her emotions churning. Why could he not see that the Captain was playing him for a fool? Why was he not at least attempting to defend her from so obvious a pirate lord? …and why did she feel an overwhelming pull to follow Hook to the ends of the world?

"Shall I help you pack a small bag, my beauty," the Captain asked, extending his hook to her in an attempt to rile her oh-so-fetching anger. "You'll desire a few small comforts of home, but no more. I assure you I have fully prepared for your arrival."

Wendy raised an eyebrow at the Captain's outstretched hook. Should she choose to accept this villainous offer, she'd likely never return home again. She doubted she was much more than a pawn in some elaborate scheme of Hook's and any insult or injury she suffered would be mere collateral damage in his obsessive vendetta against Peter. And she loved him, did she not? Wendy bit her lip absentmindedly, not noticing how the action caught the wolfish attentions of the Captain before her. Yes, she loved her childhood friend dearly, and would weep for him if some folly rid Neverland of his life…but he had forgotten her, had never returned for her through all of the years, despite his promise that he would. And her 'home,' she thought, ruefully, her home had ceased to be a home since the death of her mother. Her brothers were nearly grown and would be starting families of their own soon enough and her father only wished to be rid of her. No, she would shed no tears in leaving England. Her small, pale hand reached out and softly wrapped around the cold steel of the dreaded appendage that glistened in the dim lighting of the parlor. Her eyes, defiantly daring Captain Hook to call her bluff, met with the pirate's forget-me-not blue orbs.

"I am glad you've returned _James_," she purposefully drew out his name. "Papa, if you feel I won't embarrass the family by being married at sea, I should like to leave with my Captain tonight."


	4. Chapter 4: Apologies

APOLOGIES

"A woman knows the face of the man she loves as a sailor knows the open sea."

Honore de Balzac

Captain Hook beamed at the girl before him, whose dainty hand was curled around his feared hook. The girl's tenacity…oh the filthy things that came to his mind when he imagined her…vigor otherwise entranced. He had fully expected to be met with more resistance, with screaming and crying and the cursing of his blaggard name to the deepest depth of Hades. It seemed Miss Darling was willing to give herself to his whims just to escape the dreary fates her life had in store for her, should she remain in England. To live here, to remain in the horrors of her impending mundane existence, would be such a waste for the lively young storyteller. His eyes raked over her taut form as he sat beside him on a chaise lounge. A blush rose from her ample bosom and overtook her cheeks. Oh, to corrupt her would be a great adventure indeed. A slight apprehension settled in his stomach as he found himself entranced by her beauty and innocence; he realized was loathe to part her from the latter, at least for the time being. Steely anger pulsed at the thought and his blue eyes tinged with red. What was this girl to him? _Nothing. _A means to an end. Beautiful, pure, and entrancing, but a pawn none-the-less. She had to be sullied, had to reek of his…influence, among other things, if this exploit was ever to affect Pan.

"I do believe this is cause for celebration," Mr. Darling said, his smile nearly breaking his normally stoic visage. He left the pair in the pursuit of a bottle of wine in the cellar.

Wendy's hand, still wrapped around the Captain's hook, dropped the appendage to give her the ability to wring it against her other palm. She glanced at Captain Hook's face, only to be met with an unreadable expression. With a sigh, she steeled herself and spoke.

"It has been many years. For myself at least."

She left her statement at that, hoping he would join her in conversation. The Captain seemed less inclined to speak, so she continued.

"Yes…well, I daresay the years have been kind to you Captain…you look no different now than you did when I last laid eyes on you."

Captain Hook's lip twitched slightly, causing his mustache to jump. Wendy found herself entranced and was fixated so on the feature she felt she could very much find a wealth of affection for before realizing the pirate to which it was attached was speaking. She blushed, a feature with which the Captain found himself quickly becoming enamored.

"Pardon, sir?"

He rolled his blue eyes. Hopefully she hadn't gone stupid.

"I was merely reminding you, my beauty, that the last time you laid eyes on me, I was being shoved off of my ship and into the mouth of that damned reptile. To your loud chants, I recall."

Wendy's expression faltered. Hook was pleased she at least had the sense to look ashamed.

"I had forgotten that…Captain, I…."

Her apology, lingering on her tongue, was silenced when the Captain leaned over her frame, pressing her lithe body against the backing of the lounge. His face was inches from hers, and she felt her hidden kiss aching to jump ship and rest as close to his entrancing mustache as it could. He sneered, taking note of the hitch in her breath his close vicinity caused.

"You've no need to apologize, my dear. You were Red Handed Jill…a pirate, fearsome and ruthless, right? Executions are a necessary action. Mutiny," he growled, "is ill-advised, though, my dear…especially when the mutinied Captain isn't killed. However will I punish you for your sins?"

Wendy blanched.

"Captain, please, I am so dreadfully sorry."

"Save it, girl. Your apologies won't save you from your fate."

"And what fate is that? Are you to kill me as soon as I leave my father's home? That isn't sporting at all, _Captain_."

He grinned. She wasn't sure she cared for it now, and was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with his proximity.

"Wouldn't be sporting? Dear girl, if I wished to, I would slice your pretty little throat in front of dear old dad. But I've another…punishment in mind for you."

Wendy's resolution returned.

"If you're planning on making me your _whore, _you may as well kill me now, Captain. I shan't sully my virtue."

He laughed outright at her candor.

"Oh, dear girl, have you forgotten your father has given you to be my bride? I can hardly sully my _bride _can I? And isn't it your duty to fulfill your wifely tasks to your dear husband?"

"You can't force me," she said, backing up from him as much as she could.

"My beauty, I shan't need to."

To prove his point, he pressed himself against her and brought his lips a breath's away from her own. Her breath hitched. Her eyes fluttered. Her heart soared. When her lips pursed slightly and her eyes closed, he laughed again, and she opened her eyes again to find herself alone on the chaise. The Captain was busying himself by feigning interest in the books on the shelves as her father joined them again, a bottle of wine and pair of glasses in his hands. He scowled at Wendy.

"Sit upright child! You would think you were raised by pirates lounging about like that!"

An hour later, Wendy's few possessions were packed in a single traveling trunk. Captain Hook had been ever present over her shoulder, commenting on each item she chose. He'd allowed her to bring along a few of her more colorful dresses and advised her to choose her most sensible shoes. To spite him, she placed a pair of beautifully embroidered black bootlets alongside two other pairs of "sensible" boots, one pair black, one pair brown. The bootlets had cherry blossoms along the inner and outer sides and had yet to be worn. Wendy had not yet found an appropriate setting for the footwear. She blushed as he evaluated, silently, her under things. Corsets, bodices, and pantaloons were embarrassingly placed into her trunk under the intent perusal of the Captain. When she was finally packed, she looked expectantly at Captain Hook. He raised a black eyebrow.

"Are you in need of anything, Miss Darling?"

She pouted. He found it adorable.

"I need my trunk removed to wherever it is your ship is docked, and unless you plan on aiding me in strapping it to my back, I suggest you show an ounce of propriety and carry it downstairs for me."

Wendy had forgotten how close she was standing to the wall until Captain Hook had her pressed up against it, and had his body pressed against hers. His hook came up to caress the side of her face almost lovingly.

"You would do well to hold your tongue, my beauty. I'd hate to have my anger pressed so far that I cut the appendage out of you. I have so many _other_ uses for it."

And with that, he kissed her. If she had been expecting the soft, meager kisses she had heard her female acquaintances speak of, she was sorely mistaken. This was no kind, sweet boy. This was a vicious and cruel pirate captain and his kisses were sinful, probing, and intoxicating. Wendy had feared she would be lost the moment his lips touched hers. She was wrong. She had found herself in his demanding kiss; had found that lacking self that the rules and laws of her society had all but quashed. As Wendy returned his kiss with equal vigor, opening her pink mouth when his questing tongue sought entrance, she felt right. Even through the demanding movements of his lips and tongue, Captain Hook had held his composure, aside from the rising heat and hardness in his nether regions that he had pressed against Wendy's abdomen. Had he thought he could simply take what he wished from the girl and be rid of her after he had taunted Pan with her virtue's destruction, he was sorely mistaken. From the moment his lips crashed onto hers, he was lost. When he pulled back to allow the gasping girl a moment to breathe, he was annoyed to find her hidden kiss still resting on the corner of her mouth. So, it would take much more than a simple, marking kiss to claim the trophy? No matter. He had so many more plans for the girl's lithe frame; he knew by the end of it, the hidden kiss would be his. He did not allow himself to dwell on the fact that his inner voice mentioned that it never wanted to cease searching for the trophy, even until the ends of Hook's days. A foolish thought, he censured the small voice as he returned his lips to Wendy's, he was immortal…he had no "end of days," he would live forever…_as would Wendy when she returned,_ the voice responded.


	5. Chapter 5: Foolish

FOOLISH

"First love is only a little foolishness and a lot of curiosity."

George Bernard Shaw

Surprisingly, there was no ship hovering outside of her bedroom window as Wendy had imagined. No, it was more mundane than that. A small carriage waited in front of her home. She smiled when she noticed the carriage's driver.

"Mr. Smee!"

The Irishman beamed.

"Miss Wendy! I'm surprised ye remember the likes of me."

"Of course I remember you! Who could forget the kind-hearted scourge of the seven seas?"

Mr. Smee blushed and stepped off of the carriage to load her trunk.

"T'ain't no scourge of even a puddle, Miss, but kind of ya to say so. I gather that you'll be joining us?"

Captain Hook rolled his eyes.

"Obviously, Smee. Let's be off…I'd like to return to my ship before that damned Pan ransacks it in my absence."

Offering his hook to her, the Captain helped Wendy to step up into the carriage. Without pause she had grabbed onto his hook. How the girl could be so accustomed to the appendage feared by so many was unclear to him. So confounded by her actions, he found himself at a loss for words, and so they rode in silence until the girl felt her discomfort too high.

"How are we returning to Neverland, Captain? Surely we cannot simply drive there."

He sneered.

"Of course not. We will be sailing."

"But I thought the _Jolly Roger _still in Neverland."

"It is. I have commandeered a smaller vessel for our journey."

"Commandeered?"

"As I have said."

"Stolen more like."

"If that is your view."

Wendy sighed, but relaxed slightly into the carriage. When her back met the Captain's left arm impeding it from pressing against the carriage, she jumped forward, mortified.

"Oh! Forgive me, I did not know you were so situated, sir!"

She blushed. He ached to caress her rosy cheeks.

"Relax, my beauty," he said, his voice sinful. "If you are to be my bride, you must accustom yourself to my proximity."

She blanched.

"Bride? Sir, I thought…what I mean to say is…you don't plan on marrying me, truly? I thought it was for my father's benefit, and I…."

His shoulders shook with laughter, but he held back the guffaw that threatened to escape his lips.

"My dear girl, anything I have done has been for your benefit. Although if you'd rather live in sin with me, we can bypass the marriage altogether. In fact, I think we may much prefer it."

"Sir!"

He laughed again. She scowled.

"And I haven't a choice?"

"Of course you did," he said, patting her disparagingly on her knee. "You could come willingly or wrapped in a burlap sack hoisted over my shoulder. And isn't this so much more…cozy?"

His left hand hooked around her waist and pulled her back so that she rested against him. Tense at first, Wendy finally relaxed into Captain Hook's half-embrace. He subdued a shout of joy that bubbled in his throat as he felt her soft frame rest so comfortably against his. Though comfortably situated, Wendy chewed her lip in thought as the carriage drove down the streets of London.

..

..

..

They had been on the ship for days. He was yearning for her. His body betraying him with every unconscious sashay of her hips. He was sure that damned girl wasn't even aware of what she was doing to him. Captain Hook stared at the calm ocean for a moment, resting his shaking hand and hook on the edge of his vessel. He sighed. He couldn't stand out here knowing Wendy was just a few paces away sleeping in his bed. He was a man. He was weak. She was irritatingly entrancing. When he could no longer keep himself away from her, he relented. Damn her sense of propriety. Damn his promise to not sully her virtue until she came to him. Damn it all. He burst into his cabin, his eyes smoldering red. Wendy, clad in only one of his billowing white undershirts, sat up with a start, her eyes wide and questioning.

"Captain?"

He strode over to her and crushed his mouth onto hers. She resisted, slightly, as he crawled on top of her, pressing himself against her. His hand slipped between her legs. She was truly wearing nothing but his undershirt. He groaned as his fingers found purchase between her folds. She opened her legs to accommodate him and reached her dainty hands forward to release his swollen member from the confines of his trousers. He moaned her name as she wrapped her hands around him. Her voice echoed in his ears.

"Captain? Captain? James?"

He was softly shaken awake by a pair of dainty hands. He had been asleep. Confound it. Wendy was staring at him, expectantly.

"Captain, are you alright?"

He cleared his throat and crossed his legs uncomfortably.

"Yes, fine. Just resting my eyes."

"Ah."

"Yes."

"Are you sure you are indeed alright, sir? You are perspiring…should we stop for a moment so you may rest?"

Hook bristled, secretly enjoying Wendy's growing concern.

"I'm bloody well fine, woman! I don't need any of your molly-coddling. I've no need for a mother, so desist with your infernal questions!"

"I'm sorry."

They sat in silence for a moment as they continued en route to Hook's aforementioned vessel. Wendy held a smile back.

"I hope it wasn't a horrid dream, Captain."

"What?"

"You were calling my name. I hope some nastiness did not befall my dream self. Was it too terribly wretched?"

His face tinged with red, but his eyes remained icy blue.

"I've no idea what you mean."

She nodded sagely and allowed him another moment's silence before continuing.

"It is bad form for the kidnapper to fall asleep during a kidnapping, sir."


	6. Chapter 6: Setting Sail

SETTING SAIL

"If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I."

Michel de Montaigne

..

With a cocked brow, Wendy stepped out of the carriage, holding daintily onto Captain Hook's left hand. Fully entranced by the vessel on which they were to embark, she forgot to free his hand from her own. Not wishing to break the spell, Hook decidedly kept his mouth shut. It was a rowboat. No more than a vessel with room for a half-dozen men of average size. And on this they were to sail to Neverland? The simplicity of it made Wendy laugh, aloud, her dainty hand gripping Hook's tightly. His pride balked.

"And at what, dear girl, are you laughing?"

She smiled at him, the light of the setting sun dancing in her eyes.

"This is the vessel you stole?"

"Commandeered."

"Were you met with much resistance or did the fisherwoman who owned it give it up without issue?"

He dropped her hand and sulkily crossed his arms.

"You're welcome to swim back to Neverland behind the boat if it is not to your liking."

"I meant only to tease, Captain," she said, trying to soothe his wounded pride.

He sighed.

"To successfully travel between worlds, one need be in the smallest vessel possible."

"Unless you fly."

He scowled.

"Aye. And as you can so plainly see, Miss Darling, I am incapable of doing so. I wonder if you've forgotten as well."

The comment stung, but Wendy ignored it for the time being as Mr. Smee and Captain Hook boarded the rowboat, the former bringing her trunk in his arms. Captain Hook glared at her.

"Well, are you coming?"

…

…

…

Smee rowed the small boat into open water. He rowed for what seemed like hours before the sun began to set in earnest. Captain Hook pulled a retractable telescope from his coat pocket and stared toward the horizon.

"Onward, Smee! Faster!"

The Irishman complied, rowing as fast as his arms could handle. When this proved too little for the Captain, he joined Smee in his pursuits, manning the other oar. The pair rowed at a blistering pace, Wendy gripped the edges of the rowboat for fear she should fall into the ocean and be lost. As the sun dipped into the sea, the Captain reached into his coat and pulled out a small vial. Leaving Smee to row alone again, he uncorked the vial and stood. As the sun dipped below the waters, a bright green flash, imperceptible to most, shone for a brief moment at which time the Captain emptied the vial's sparkling dusty contents over the rowboat. The green light seemed to envelop them for a few gasping breaths; Wendy's vision blurred and she lost sight of Smee, the boat, England, and, most concerningly, Captain Hook. It was only the briefest of moments before the cloud of green dust and light dissipated and Wendy found herself still situated near the Captain. She relaxed at the comfort his presence created. The daylight was an irritant; Wendy found herself being annoyed at its brightness as she slowly became accustomed to it. _Wait, daylight? _A perusal of the land before her made Wendy tear with joy. _Neverland! _She was back! She smiled and turned to look at the Captain who was intently studying her visage. He gave a reassuring smile in return before motioning forward with his head.

"Is she just as you remembered her, my beauty?"

Wendy's haze followed to fall upon the _Jolly Roger _a short distance away. She smiled so widely she geared her face might break.

"Better!"

"I'm glad you approve. Smee, take us home."

As they rowed forward, Wendy's excitement continued to bubble up inside of her. She leaned over the boat's edge to gaze into the cerulean depths of the sea, the color conjuring up a pair of eyes of a similar hue. Wendy was home, at last. Her right hand lazily reached down to skim the water. Hook jettisoned to her side and pulled her fully into the boat and on top of him. His sharp hook sliced a thin cut into her wrist, his eyes flowing that same ruddy color that dribbled from her injury and onto the floor of the rowboat.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed, you little fool?"

She blanched.

"Tis not my fault you cut me, sir."

He growled.

"Not at my hook, you imbecile. Have you any idea the dangers around every pass?"

She shook her head.

"I never feared them before. I've never truly feared anything in Neverland, save you, Captain."

Her words cut him, but he attempted not to show their impact.

"As you should fear me still, girl. But Neverland is brimming with creatures all too eager to rip you apart."

She shuddered.

"Sir?"

"Did you honestly believe that I could keep you safe from all dangers if you dangle your pretty little wrists as bait?"

"I…."

"Do not think that for a moment that I am omnipotent. Mermaids rule these depths just as pirates rule the surf above it. And if one took you, it would only serve to kill us both."

"You would die of a broken heart?"

Hook snorted, but secretly agreed.

"I would jump in after you and likely the lot of us would meet a watery grave."

"I've met mermaids before, Captain, and they were not so horrid."

"You were a slip of a girl then. At worst they would have tried to drown you."

"And now?"

He placed his hand on her knee.

"You do not wish to know."

"What does my age have to do with my treatment here?"

"Aside from Pan, children are not to be killed maliciously in Neverland."

"Drowning me would not have been malicious?"

"They could dismiss it as taking you for a swim and forgetting you need oxygen."

"And you would have had me walk the plank into a sea of mermaids waiting to drag me to a watery death?"

Captain Hook shrugged.

"You weren't nearly as interesting then as you are now."

Wendy huffed and crossed her arms.

"You're incorrigible."

"I am a pirate. That is a requirement."

A smile broke forth despite Wendy's best attempts to withhold it. Hook glanced at her arm, concerned.

"Are you…is there much pain?"

"It is but a scratch, I assure you. I've done more damage falling off of a horse."

"Remind me never to let you near a horse."

Captain Hook took a handkerchief from his pocket and poured whisky onto it from a flask that had been hidden in his boot.

"This may sting, but I don't want your wound to become infected."

She blushed.

"It is hardly a wound, Captain."

A stinging pain reduced her smile slightly, but Wendy continued to watch Hook's intent ministrations. Aware of her eyes on him, he bristled at first, then relaxed with a sigh.

"I am sorry," he said in a voice so near a whisper Wendy was unsure she truly heard it.

When he had cleansed the scrape sufficiently, Hook released her hand. He ignored the painful loss he felt without the presence of her hand in his own. Captain Hook cleared his throat and stood; the boat drifted next to the _Jolly Roger_. A rope ladder was thrown down and Captain Hook bowed to Wendy, his arm sweeping out in the direction of the ladder.

"Ascend if you will, my dear."


	7. Chapter 7: Masking

"Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up."

James A Baldwin

Wendy breathed in the sea air and the scent of ale as she boarded the _Jolly Roger_. Vivid memories flashed through her mind's eye, Captain Hook the center of near all of them. She smiled. He hadn't changed, aside from the smoldering fire in his eyes as he stared at her. Perhaps he thought she wouldn't notice. Perhaps she still couldn't comprehend all that lay behind that lust-laden gaze. Hook hoped that she couldn't guess that traitorous look in his eyes; it wouldn't do for him to show any weakness. He was a feared pirate captain, after all. Chivalrous, charming, and virile…those were the aspects of his character Wendy would see from henceforth. Showing any semblance of the deeper feelings the girl threatened to stir up within him would be disastrous indeed, to both his reputation and his sanity. Just because he was destined to die alone and unloved, per Pan at least, was no reason to avoid some carnal diversions and companionship beforehand. The object of his desire stared at him, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

"I am glad I returned with you, Captain."

"I am happy to oblige."

"And where shall I be sleeping, sir? I should like to unpack my things and get settled."

He smiled too broadly for her liking.

"Of course, my pet, come with me. Smee, bring Miss Darling's effects."

The Captain strode forward and opened a mahogany door emblazoned with the initials "J.H." is scrawling gold lettering. He couldn't possibly mean to…. Smee placed Wendy's trunk in the corner of the room before exiting with a slight bow, leaving Wendy and Captain Hook alone. Wendy looked around the richly colored chambers. If the initials on the door were not enough, the elaborate decorations solidified her assumptions of the room's normal occupant; this was the private quarters of James Hook. The interior was all in crimson and mahogany. So very James, Wendy thought. She frowned at the notion. When did she begin to think of Hook as James? Just because he kissed her? There were many men who would have done the same, though perhaps not so expertly. The thought caused a flush to raise into her cheeks. Her anger at the blush further increased the color in her cheeks. Damnation! Like hell she would be another mark on his bedpost, how ever nice said bedpost may be. Wendy plastered a sweet smile onto her face; Hook did not trust it in the least.

"Thank you, sir, for allowing me the use of your chambers."

"Of course, poppet. Where else should a woman be staying than with her husband?"

"I could not agree more, Captain. And when I have a husband, I'm sure he will thank you for relinquishing your rooms as well."

He laughed aloud, but couldn't tell whether to be enraged or tickled.

"My dear Wendy, are you quite finished? You shan't be another man's wife. You are mine."

"Am I, Captain? I've exchanged no ring. Said no vow before God and man."

"You agreed. That is enough."

"To a pirate, perhaps, but I am a lady first and foremost, and until I am wed in the eyes of God and man, you, my dear sir, shall be sleeping elsewhere."

His eyes flickered red, but he retained his composure.

"Like hell I will. I shall not be thrown out of my own chambers by the niggling moralities of a girl who not three hours ago had her skirts hiked up round her thighs, panting and groaning against me."

She had the decency to blush.

"Sir, I am pure and pure shall I remain until I am wed. A few foolish kisses do little to divest me of that."

He stalked towards her, she instinctively backed away until her thighs met with something soft. Dear Heavens above, the bed! A look into his red-tinged eyes was small comfort. His left arm wrapped possessively around her. His head dipped low, her eyes fluttered shut. His breath caressed her throat and she puckered her lips for his kiss.

"Have it your way," he said, his voice husky, before he dropped her onto the bed and walked away.

Hook glared at her from across the room, pouring himself a large glass of brandy.

"Perhaps you should sleep with the crew, Miss Darling," he said, purely facetiously, attempting to scare her.

Wendy cocked her chin high and strode over to her trunk. She sat on top of it, crossed her arms, and glared at Captain Hook.

"Perhaps I shall, sir. I'm sure there is some code of honour in your men to allow a chaste woman her privacy. They, at least, have been gentlemanly to me since I arrived and have not yet attempted to molest my person."

Hook laughed, a sardonic dry crackle of sound that caught Wendy's attentions.

"Molested your person? You little twit, if you had walked onboard this ship without my arm around you, there are many in my employ who would have done far worse than sully your bloody virtue. And as to this imaginary code of honour you feel all pirates swear to, I would think your childish sensibilities long since passed. Just because I won't force myself on a woman, regardless of her virtue or lack thereof, is no reflection on my crew's tactics or capabilities."

"But, sir, why would you have such men in your service?"

"I am a pirate, my beauty, and am in no position to request anything more than sworn allegiance from my men."

"And you would bring your wife to live amongst such men?"

He softened, albeit only slightly. The girl was frightened, her expression hopeless. That wouldn't do, he couldn't have her holed up in his cabin for the rest of his days, as enticing as the idea may be. Hook felt marginally guilty for exaggerating the perversity of his crew. But there were those among them who _would _sully a maiden on the ship, and good that she feared all but himself and Smee, if only for her protection.

"My wife would be safe here. Or as safe as one can be on a pirate ship."

"If they would attack me now, what would stop them if I was your bride?"

"Wouldn't assaulting their Captain's wife seem a breech of their sworn allegiance?"

Wendy bit her lip, thinking over his words. He made sense. Too much sense. So like him.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose."

"And should not a wife share her husband's bedchamber?"

"But we are not wed, Captain."

He growled, the red irises flashing again.

"You've consented, I have as well. You do, I do, I now pronounce us man and wife."

She scoffed.

"You've no right!"

"Haven't I?" He quirked a brow at her. "I am the Captain of this vessel, thus I can perform marriage ceremonies."

"But we…."

"Are wed. Just as you asked, mon oiseau. Before God," he motioned towards the ceiling, "And man," he leered at her.

Sweeping her off of the trunk and into his arms, he set her down, gripping her waist just shy of too tightly. His piercing blue gaze barreled into her soul. Wendy's defenses weakened. She felt the warmth of his breath on her lips.

"I may now kiss the bride."

And he did just that. Stunned at first, Wendy attempted to push him away, but Hook was far too strong. Her eyes rolled back and shut as his tongue caressed her bottom lip, begging entrance to her mouth. The pleasure coursing through her lust-addled mind allowed her to acquiesce without further resistance. She moaned wantonly as his left hand snaked up her back, rubbing her gently as his hook cut into the thin corseted ties at her back. Her mind was a blur as his hand and hook caressed her body. Her dress, torn just beyond repair, pooled at her feet. Hook lifted her into his arms again, his lips never leaving their employment. Clad only in her undergarments, the wind the open porthole allowed to enter he room caused Wendy's nipples to further peak, an action that Hook's left hand was fully gaining knowledge of. Wendy moaned at the ministrations of his skilled fingers and arched her back to obtain more stimulation. Freeing one breast from its cotton confines, Hook deftly took a pink nipple into his mouth. A loud near screaming moan fell from Wendy's lips. He chuckled as his left hand crawled achingly slowly down to the apex of her thighs. His hand went under her skirts. She pales.

"Sir, please, I am not ready for…"

He hushed her with a firm kiss. His hand pushed her legs apart and his fingers pressed achingly against her wet heat. Finding her hidden pearl, Hook worked Wendy into a frenzy. Unsure of exactly what this feeling was, Wendy moaned unabashed and ground against his hand. Hook's lips pressed gentle kisses onto her earlobe before he whispered into her ear.

"Just let go, Wendy."

She did. Colors burst in her retinas. Birds sang. Her breath was lost. The taste of vanilla and berries filled her mouth. Warmth throughout. Everything that was good in Wendy's world paled in comparison to the feeling coursing through her veins. The wonderful, glorious feeling that was brought about at the hand, the sole hand, of her once-enemy. As Wendy came down from her ecstasy to Captain Hook's low murmurs, she shuddered.

"What was that?"

He smiled at her naiveté.

"A taste, my dear. Just a taste."

He stood with a flourish, surprisingly gallant for as impaired as he was considering his body's enthusiastic response to Wendy's orgasm and general proximity.

"I shall leave you for the moment, wife, to unpack your effects. I have some business to attend to on deck."

He strode out of the room, a smug grin on his face. Wendy stared after him as the door shut. And locked. She frowned. That pirate bastard!


	8. Chapter 8: Being

BEING

"Perhaps the feelings that we experience when we are in love represent a normal state. Being in love shows a person who he should be."

Anton Chekhov

Wendy busied herself by perusing the books in Hook's cabin. She found tomes of ancient stories, large bound copies of maps of both Neverland and her world, and…she blushed. Surely he wouldn't leave such _profanity _out for any wandering eye's gaze. Curious, she pulled a brown leather book off of the shelf. Glittering gold lettering legitimized the book's sordid contents, to a point. _The Feminine Art_. Wendy scoffed. Good lord. She knew what she would find in the pages, but to imagine a gentleman like Hook…she laughed at her own folly. He was a pirate and very attuned to the "feminine art," a matter of which she found herself blushingly aware. Her shaking hands opened the book, its crisp pages welcoming her touch. If her face had been red before, it was surely now a deep crimson. There were scores of women in various states of undress. They were perfection, and of varying body shapes and skin tones, each more beautiful than the next. All were wide-eyed and full lipped, each complexion flawless and glistening in their water-colored representations. Wendy caught her own reflection in the gilt mirror that was bolted to the wall. She sighed. How could she ever compare to this kind of woman? She may have a decent form, and a marginally pretty face, but these women…even in painted form they bore more self-assurance in their smiles than Wendy felt in her whole person. She was never at a loss for suitors, but that was England. This was Neverland and if these paintings were any representation of the women here, she was sorely unlovely by comparison.

She wondered, despite not truly wishing to know, if Captain Hook had _known _women like this. She had no doubts that she would not be the first woman he had kissed like that, else his skill at the task would surely not be so great. Wendy was surprised to find a bubbling stomach full of jealousy growing inside of her, making her feel quite ill indeed. She was jealous of the painted women, jealous of the real ones who had shared the Captain's bed. Never before had she felt so irrationally angered at a stranger. She decided she would not allow herself pause to think anymore on the subject and fully intended on closing the book with a resounding thud when her loose grip on the book allowed it to open to an obviously well-perused page. She stared, wide-eyed, at the young woman in the painting. Her hair was auburn and hung in loosened ringlets over creamy nude shoulders. She was pale, though not sickly so. Her eyes were green and full of mischief, her lips pink and quirked in a half-smile. She looked, for all intentions, quite similar to the reflection Wendy had noted in the mirror. And this was the page at which Hook's attentions were focused more often than not? Wendy bit her lip. Curious. The page was dog-eared and well worn. Was she imagining the similarities? Another aspect of the painting caught her attention. She blinked a few times, yet the strange quality still remained painted on the page. The woman's delicate hands were splayed over her abdomen, under which lay the apex of her thighs, where one would normally find a thatch of unruly curls. At that juncture, lay only more creamy skin. Wendy was reminded of the shaven faces of most men of her acquaintance. Why had she never thought of shaving that most intimate area in the same manner as she shaved her legs and underarms? Surely it could be done…could it not? She shook her head and closed the book, placing it discreetly back from whence it came. It did no good to think about that now; it was doubtful that Captain Hook would allow her to have a razor anyway, for fear she would use it against him and escape.

_Escape_. The word echoed in her brain. She sighed as she took a turn about her ornately decorated prison. She had thought coming to Neverland would free her from the prison in which her life in England had held her. Instead, she found a different prison, full of pirates and adventure, true, but no real freedom. She would have to endear herself to the Captain. Gain his trust…and when that trust was obtained, she could escape and find Peter. At least until she could sort out the confusing feelings ebbing through her body at present. A feeling of uncertainty came over Wendy; she did not want to leave him. But did she really want to remain with Hook, his captive forever? She felt something for the pirate Captain and wanted much more than his passion-fueled kisses could give her. Even more than the wondrous feelings he had brought forth in her earlier that day. Best to rid herself of the temptation so she was able to view their relationship and her heart's desires with a clear mind. The lust-addled one currently residing in her head wouldn't do at all; its only recommendations involved a very nude Wendy tying the equally nude pirate to the bed and…good God above she had to get off of this boat!

Yes, she thought, she would leave when the opportunity arose. But she had the sneaking suspicion that the venture would prove more difficult for her heart than anything else.

..

..

...

Captain Hook strolled the decks, breathing salted air deeply into his lungs. This was just what he needed, a reprieve from the wench's all-consuming taste. He was enveloped in the sweetness of her presence, despite her every attempt to prove herself headstrong and embittered. No, she was as sweet and alluring as an untouched berry, just ripened in the morning sun. True, she teased him, but the chit hadn't a malicious bone in her body. Suddenly breaking her just to spite Pan seemed abominably cruel, even for him. He wanted to protect her, to keep her just for himself, never to share her sweetness with another soul He railed at the idea. Becoming attached to one's prisoner was unheard of! And he was a pirate; he had no need for anyone other than a few men handy enough to help him sail his vessel unimpeded. If anything, the roles should be reversed, and his prisoner should be clamoring for his attentions, attached as she should be to his person. He smiled, recalling her undulations at the mere touch of his dexterous fingers. Perhaps she already was attached…and would it be so very wrong of him to want such an innocent heart to forever be his? Could he not trump Pan while simultaneously winning heart of fair maiden? He stared ahead at the expanse of sea before him. Could Wendy Darling be far more to him than he had planned? His heart, an organ he thought long-since dead, stirred. Oh, bollocks.


	9. Chapter 9: Entranced

ENTRANCED

"Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence."

H.L. Mencken

The Captain had left her locked away in his rooms for the better part of the day, though saw fit to send Smee in every now and again to check up on her. The skirts of her under-dress had become irritatingly warm; Wendy stripped further down, deciding against delving into her trunk and finding new clothes to wear. Dressed only in her knickers and a white corset, she paced the room, bored to tears. She blushed as she recalled Hook's fingers pressing into her folds, his digits finding their way into the small slit of her knickers and bringing her crashing down against the world around her. She shook herself out of her reverie; best not to dwell on the feeling of his body pressed against hers and her own body's traitorous screaming out for his nearness to return.

After reading far more about nautical engineering than she ever wanted to know (and staunchly avoiding _any _book whose title bore any implication of nudity), Wendy drifted to sleep, curled up in the large embroidered crimson robe she had found draped over a chair. It had nothing to do with the fact that the velvet smelled like _him._ Of course not. And the vividly erotic dreams of that self-same him bringing her to orgasm after shaking orgasm were merely the result of indigestion. Precisely. Wendy awoke famished and disoriented. She felt as if she had slept for hours. She wondered where Captain Hook was as she looked out of the porthole window; it was night, the sky full of twinkling starlight. A half-moon hung lazily overhead. The scent of fresh seawater and evening wafted into the room as the door swung open. Wendy turned and greeted Captain Hook with a smile as he walked into the room, too comfortable in the robe to truly care in what she was attired.

"Good evening, Captain."

He inclined his head to her.

"I trust you slept well?"

"Yes. Your accommodations are very comfortable, though I dearly hope I won't forever be entombed in them."

He frowned.

"Would it truly be so horrid to remain with me? Is it myself or my ship that so far fails in your expectations?"

"You mistake my meaning, sir, I meant no ill-will towards your person or your ship. Only that should I remain locked up in this room much longer, I may go quite mad."

He laughed in earnest at that, his barely quelled rage dissipating at her humor.

"And I should like to keep you from that fate, my dear. I assure you that I had urgent business on deck I had to attend to and until I can refresh your memories of the ship's layout, I do not want you venturing around unescorted."

Initially railing at the suggestion, that she was in need of an escort, Wendy begrudgingly accepted the sense of the idea.

"I suppose that was for the best. I did find some _very_ interesting books to…inspire my imagination."

Hook smiled, unsure but assuming her reference.

"Indeed. If you are ready to leave the room, my beauty, I have called for a late dinner to be prepared. It should be delivered in an hour's time. Would you care to take a walk about the decks with me?"

Wendy's face lit up at the suggestion.

"Yes!"

His eyes perused her form.

"Although I enjoy seeing you thus attired, perhaps I should give you a moment's repose to dress? There should be a suitable evening gown hanging in the closet."

"I have suitable dresses, Captain, and I…."

"You are dining with the ship's Captain, my dear, and should dress accordingly."

She scowled. He sighed.

"Humor me. I purchased a gown with you in mind, prior to your arrival. Do you need assistance?"

Wendy shook her head.

"Hopefully I shall be able to dress myself, sir. I will call for you if needed."

Hook bowed with a flourish and was gone, leaving Wendy alone again. She strode over to the closet built into the wall of the room. With an exquisite sigh, she took the aforementioned dress from the closet and laid it out on the rumpled bed. To call it beautiful would be understating its elegance. It was made, Wendy surmised, of silk finer than the finest found in London. Some elemental magic in the worms who wove the fabric was intrinsic to Neverland as the blue silk glistened, even in the dim lighting of the Captain's quarters. She shrugged off the robe and draped it back over the chair before the desk set against the wall of the cabin. Back only in her skivvies, Wendy walked back over to the bed, staring at the dress, still in awe of its beauty. A flitting memory of a nightgown of the near exact same color passed through her mind. Hook had said that he had purchased the dress with her in mind…could his memory of her time in Neverland, even down to her nightdress, be so exact? Wendy repeated the mantra which was swiftly becoming very annoying to her; best not to dwell on it.

She lifted the silken gown off of the bed and loosened the corseted back before stepping into it, the cool material soft and welcoming against her warmed skin. She righted the dress as best she could, save from tightening the corset stays at her back. She caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled at her own transformation. The dress truly was an object of extreme beauty; its sky blue color perfection against her creamy skin. The arms were tapered at the end and fell just to the crook of her elbow, ending in a flourish of white ruffled cotton. The style of the gown was older than Wendy was used to, and seemingly more akin to something her great-grandmother would have worn. She smiled. Being adorned in such a beautiful and somehow timeless dress added a sense of romance to the adventure. The laced neckline was squared and revealed more than an adequate amount of her ample bosom. The skirts were full and layered, the same lace of the neckline traveling down her torso and legs, ending in a patterned edge at the bottom of the gown. Wendy smiled at the small details within the fabric; lilies were embroidered on the center of the lace. With that in mind, she grabbed the embroidered bootlets she had brought from her home and donned them; the heel might be high and somewhat imposing, but she wouldn't be walking too much…just the decks of the ship. She could relax once back in the cabin, could she not? After a few failed attempts at corseting herself into the dress, she acquiesced to the need presenting itself and called Captain Hook back into the room. A sharp intake of breath as he took her image in caused her confidence to soar.

He cleared his throat and shut his gaping mouth.

"Yes…you look…uh…yes, lovely. Ahem. Turn around then."

He tied her corset tight against her frame, though was careful to leave her more room than she was used to to breathe comfortably. She never considered how exactly a one-handed, one-hooked man could so easily tie her into a corset. Gladly taking his offered arm, Wendy and Captain Hook strolled out onto the decks of the _Jolly Roger_ for an evening's repose.


	10. Chapter 10: Someone to Watch Over Me

SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME

"I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood

I know I could, always be good

To one who'll watch over me

Although he may not be the man some

Girls think of as handsome

To my heart he carries the key."

Ella Fitzgerald

The cool sea air was most refreshing. Fireflies and pixies dotted the trees along the coastline, their flickering light lending to the magic already palpable in the air. Wendy's small hands were wrapped around Hook's right arm, her thin arm locked between their bodies as they walked the deck. Hook tried not to focus on the elation that buzzed through him at this simple gesture. They strolled the sparsely populated deck leisurely. Wendy wondered, aloud, where the crew was.

"Below decks rabblerousing or on shore doing much the same, I would wager," he said, his clear voice resounding in the darkness.

"Shall I ever be allowed on shore?"

"To drink and womanize?"

He thought for a moment, a lecherous smile overshadowing his features.

"Not unless I'm there to watch."

She scoffed, he laughed. Realizing the teasing nature of his statement, she playfully smacked his right arm with her free hand.

"Captain, if you are going to make sport of me all evening, I would rather return to bed."

"As would I."

"Pardon me?"

"I assure you, wife, I can make sport of you there as well, though you may enjoy it more thoroughly."

"Sir, I insist you stop," she said, stepping back from him, her anger blazing. "If I am your _wife _as you have been so fond of reminding me, I should like to be afforded a modicum of your respect. A man does not discuss things with his wife!"

Hook nodded sagely.

"Carnal lusts and appetites are best saved for one's mistress, then, is that it?"

She paled.

"I…I would not know such things."

"Isn't it so in your time, though, my dear? Acceptable for a man to seek his pleasures elsewhere after silently doing his _duty _to his bride?"

"Sir, I do not wish to discuss…."

He grabbed her shoulders roughly, his hook turned so as not to impale her, but the cold steel pressing painfully against her back none-the-less.

"Well, we are discussing it. Call me an old fool, a _codfish_ if you so desire, my beauty, but understand this much about your captor and husband-he will not seek other amusements. That, my dear Wendy, is what you are for."

She struggled against him. He wouldn't release his grip on her. She glared at him, her green eyes pools of rage in the half-moonlight.

"An amusement, then? Is that all I am to the _illustrious _Captain James Hook? No more than a common harlot to be used and affronted based on your own desires? If that is what is to become of me, I respectfully request to walk the plank, _Captain_. I will not have…."

He silenced her with a kiss as was his wont since he strolled into her father's house in London. If she ever gave him the silent treatment, he would be at a loss for how to react. As it was, she continually sparred with him verbally, and Hook was not-so-begrudgingly forced to quell her temper with a new-favored pastime. She melted against his kiss, her impassioned rage turning very quickly into molten lust. He drew back, his forget-me-not eyes searching hers, his voice uncommonly soft and reassuring.

"I desire you to be my companion, Wendy, make no mistake about your position with me. If I wanted a brazen harlot, I would have found one, quite easily, I assure you. I have already told you I shall not take you against your will…I may be a pirate, but remember that I am a man of my word, and I have not yet nor will I ever lie to you. I care not for your reactions to the truth; if you are angered by my past or my desires, so be it, but I respect you enough to at least give you the benefit of my honesty. At my absolute worst, I may have stretched the truth, perhaps, omitted facts, indeed, but lied, never. Should you come to me, begging for my touch, I shall not deny myself the comfort of your body, no matter what the ramifications are should you decide to change your mind after the deed is done. I just want you, you silly little twit, how ever you will have me."

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and placed her hand back into the crook of his right arm.

"I believe our meal should be ready, mon oiseau. Would you join me?"

She nodded and silently allowed him to guide her back to his…their…cabin, neither one of them noticing the red-headed boy flying overhead, a twinkling fairy hovering beside him.


	11. Chapter 11: Dining

DINING

"Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place."

Zora Neale Hurston

Peter Pan, boy of wondrous abilities and intelligence, he who would never grow up, watched the exchange between Hook and the lady on board the_ Jolly Roger_ with interest. He hadn't believed the Lost Boys when they had brought reports of a new female pirate joining the ranks of Captain Hook's crew. "Red-Handed Jill" they had called her. Some spark of recognition tore at him for a second's time before it was pushed back into the recesses of his clouded memories. Until some solid evidence was had, he couldn't believe a lady would willingly join Hook's crew of dastardly villains. He may be a child eternally, but Pan was not so naïve as to ignore that the Lost Boys' memories were scattered at best. He understood that as almost no one else did, save Wendy. Speaking of Wendy, where was she? She had been gathering berries far too long, he would have to…no, no wait, she wasn't gathering berries. _Think, Peter, think_. She was…at home! Yes, he crowed inwardly, of course she was, he put her back there recently, right? Of course, the cleverness of him, putting her safely back in her room with her brothers, away from Hook's steel grasp. She was probably waiting for spring-cleaning to come round again to return. She had missed a few, hadn't she? Peter couldn't remember or didn't care to delve into the muddled cloud in his mind to truly recall. What a forgetful girl Wendy was to miss spring-cleaning, if indeed she had missed one. He would have to go get her soon; he had new Lost Boys in need of a mother, and he was itching for new stories to be told about his wonderful exploits. He would bring her back, after this mess with Hook and the lady was squared away, of course. It was brilliant of Tinkerbell to confirm the new arrival earlier that night; it had given the pair of them a chance to quietly fly to the pirate ship and take a look unnoticed. She had been flying with a few of her fairy brethren when she peaked in Hook's cabin, a task she oft repeated whenever she could after the Captain had double-crossed her. But the description of the lady's interaction with Hook in his cabin earlier that day had hardly sounded indicative of a willing guest to Peter! From what Tink said, it appeared Hook had taken the lady captive and was torturing her in his cabin! Tink even said the poor lady had cried out and tried to fight back during the session, grasping at the rotten pirate's hair and pulling. Peter grinned. Hopefully she had gotten a few tugs in on the codfish!

Being the hero that he was, Peter _had_ to investigate for himself; but he now found himself quite confounded by the situation. If this Red-Handed Jill was truly being held against her will, she most certainly wouldn't be waking arm-in-arm with that old codfish! Peter would have to rally the troops in the morning and plot her rescue. And, if she was indeed a pirate, well, as long as he was planning things, he may as well plan a suitable execution for a lady-pirate just in case. He laughed as Tink flitted about him, bopping him on the head with all of her might. The pair flew off to their hideout, a wide grin set on Pan's tanned face. What fun this would be; finally, a new game!

/

/

In the years since Wendy's initial visit, Pan hadn't changed at all, as was in keeping with his personality and right as the boy who never grew up. But Wendy did not know this yet, focused as she was on the many irritating and glorious aspects of the pirate Captain currently pulling a chair out for her with an effortless chivalry. The table was set with beautiful silverware and bone china in a plain, yet elegant, ivory color. The cloth covering it was jet black, as if Wendy had any doubt the color would be anything beyond luxuriously decadent. The food, he assured her, would be brought in shortly. Hook pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she moved to the offered chair. She sat and her breath hitched as his fingers and hook trailed a path down her shoulders in an achingly erotic manner. How this man could illicit such…_sinful_ feelings in her with a mere touch of skin and steel was mind-boggling. Wendy tried desperately to focus on said man who was now seated across from her, his lips moving in speech that she couldn't quite decipher yet. Her traitorous mind imagined the Captain without his shirt, lifting her over to the bed and divesting her of the silken dress she wore. Again he would bring her crashing down in that wave of ecstasy she barely understood. Her eyes flitted to the bed, just a short jaunt away from their table. The things she wanted him to do—the things she wanted to do to him! She knew the basics of sexual intercourse; well, "knowing the _basics_" was putting it mildly. All of Wendy's knowledge on the subject was surmised in a woman's skirts being raised while a man crawled on top of her and…expended his passions. It hurt, her married friends had told her, and it must be borne in a marriage, despite how uncomfortable it was. But Wendy could not picture any action wherein the handsome Captain was pressed close to her being anything less than enjoyable. She willed the blood rushing through her head to quiet, and turned her attentions back to Captain Hook, who was staring at her expectantly.

"Pardon, sir?"

He frowned.

"It would do you well to listen, Miss Darling, I am loathe to repeat myself."

Her eyes shot back to the bed for an instant, an action he nearly missed, before she ducked her head in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry…my mind was otherwise engaged."

When he noticed her blush, he grinned. He could only imagine what situations occupying her mind if she was so focused on his bed."

"I apologize if I am boring you, my pet, all of the…sensations that Neverland has to offer are most diverting. I fear I had forgot."

"When did you come to Neverland, Captain?"

"My dear after what went on this afternoon…we are in my bedroom, alone and about to have a most romantic dinner together. You are my wife, despite your railing against the title. I would think you could call me by my Christian name."

She looked at him under her eyelashes, a blush creeping into her cheeks again. He nearly had a coronary.

"Alright, James…when did you come to Neverland?"

"It seems like ages ago…I have long-since forgotten to count the days. I studied at Eton, I believe the last year of my residence there was in 1818, though I may be mistaken."

She stared at him, her eyes boring into his own.

"_1818_?" Lord, that would make him near eighty years her senior! "And when were you born?"

He shrugged.

"Haven't the faintest anymore. The memories of that life…they come and go. Suffice it to say I arrived here by accident, lost at sea on a mission of diversion, which resulted in my entrance to Neverland."

Wendy took a sweeping glance over his form.

"But you are older than an Etonian would be, sir. I thought pirates did not age."

He nodded.

"They do not, my dear. I was not always the Captain of the _Jolly Roger_ and, even upon my entrance to Neverland was not always the pirate you see before you today. I aged as anyone here does, save pirates and Lost Boys and…_Pan_."

"And where did you live?"

"In various places. There is a small town near shore where I found employment and entertainments to divert my confusion."

"How did you become a pirate?"

His response was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Smee, who was pushing a cart full of the most sumptuous smelling food Wendy had ever been in the proximity of. He smiled a full, round grin that encompassed the whole of his face it seemed.

"Dinner is served, Captain, Miss."

He uncovered the trays of food with a stocky flourish and set the plates before the pair of them. Slices of roast boar, obviously full of delicious moisture, were set on the plate; a sprig of rosemary lay atop it in a near successful effort to appear effortless. There were small buttery potatoes and a green vegetable of which Wendy was not aware sat in cooked stalks inconspicuously. Wendy glanced at Hook's plate, which held no such greenery. She raised an eyebrow and he half-smiled at her summation.

"I don't like vegetables other than those of the root variety."

"This is most certainly not a root."

"Hence its absence from my plate."

"I do not believe I have ever seen its like. What is it, Ca…James?"

He glanced at it appraisingly, a sneer barely contained.

"Cooksonia. The stalks are edible, I suppose, though not from my perspective. They end in the wild in a sporing balloon, which is quite poisonous. Great care must be taken to prepare them else one could fall quite ill."

She blanched.

"I…I should not wish to eat it, then."

"Afraid of a little danger, Wendy?"

"Only as much as you are afraid of a little vegetation, James."

He laughed.

"Point," he took his silver fork in his left hand and speared a stalk of the cooksonia. "An exercise of trust, then."

He popped the green, buttered spear into his mouth easily, though a grimace passed over his face as he chewed.

"I truly hate vegetables, you know. I hope you understand the sacrifice I am making."

Wendy laughed from behind the napkin she had raised to her mouth to hide the wide smile he had brought about in her. He rolled his eyes and the pair set to eating their meal, Wendy actually enjoying the ruddy taste of the cooksonia, but aware of the danger ever-present when dealing with such a volatile thing. He looked up at her as he cut a few cubes of meat, her attentions focused on how deftly he handled his utensils despite the hook replacing his lost right hand. She itched with the desire to know just how he lost the appendage; oh, she knew that Peter was somehow involved, but the particulars were of glaring interest to her. So focused was she on his hook that he noticed it and responded with a sigh.

"It was your dear friend who robbed me of my right hand and if you feel it is so disgusting as to focus all your attentions on it, I shall cover it from your view. I do not wish it to tarnish your appetite."

She reached across the table and took the cold metal in her hand. Her eyes found his, the green irises soft and full of affection, not pity as he had expected to see reflected.

"You are by no means disgusting or crippled by this, James. I merely wondered at the action that took your hand from you. I am sorry if my curiosity caused you discomfort. I do not think your hook is ugly…I…I like it."

He scowled.

"You like it? It is a constant reminder of that bloody boy and his ability to catch me unaware! Had I not been sleeping when he happened upon me…."

Wendy paled.

"What? You were…you were sleeping? He did not cut it from you in a swordfight?"

Hook laughed sardonically.

"Lords, no. I had been working in town the whole day and finally found some repose in a hammock for a few hours time. I believe the date coincided with the 38th anniversary of my birth. My employer had allowed me relief from the rest of the day's work and I had just drifted off to sleep when I awoke to a searing pain in my right arm. The boy was flying above me, taunting and laughing and waving at me with my own hand. He kept it as a trophy, I think, for some time after, until he tired of it and threw it into the waters. The crocodile, now deceased by my hook, mind you, ate it and developed a taste for my flesh. Had I not had the swiftness of mind to tie my shrugged off jacket around my wrist, I surely would have bled to death. It was then, my dear Wendy, that I vowed to become a pirate and hunt that blasted boy to the ends of forever. Once I had forced a mutiny of the then Captain of the _Jolly Roger_, I took control of it and became the blaggard you see before you."

Tears were streaming down Wendy's face as he finished his tale, her meal forgotten before her. She stood and walked to his side, pushing his chair slightly back to allow her room to crawl onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in its crook. She wept silently, holding tightly onto him and pressing soft kisses to his neck every so often. Hook was at a loss for a response. When her breathing slowed and tears stopped, her grip on his neck relaxed. He lifted her into his arms and carried her into his bed, laying her gently above the covers. She was sound asleep, her tears lulling her into dreamland. He sighed. He shouldn't have told her. If he hadn't, maybe some other state of exhaustion would be lulling the pair of them to sleep. But her reaction to his story of his lost hand had quelled his lust…the girl truly cared for him, or was at the very least moved by the pain Pan had caused. Could this be an indication that there was indeed someone who could love James Hook? He shrugged off his jacket, shirt, and boots and walked over to the bed. Loosening the corsets at her back while trying not to wake her was difficult, but not impossible. Deciding she would be much more comfortable upon waking if she didn't think he took advantage of her prone form, he left her in the gown, but covered her in his robe that he had seen her wearing earlier. He snuffed the candles out and crawled into bed next to her, the sheets cool and crisp against his bare chest. Tomorrow he may be greeted with a shrieking harpy of Wendy, but tonight at least he could take comfort in knowing there was at least someone in the world that would cry for James Hook.


	12. Chapter 12: Found

FOUND

"Love sought is good, but giv'n unsought is better."

William Shakespeare, _The Twelfth Night_

Wendy awoke to the distinct feeling of warmth and comfort. She had, at some point in the night, groggily staggered out of bed, stripped off her dress, and climbed back under the covers next to a pirate Captain who watched her unnoticed, feigning sleep. She grumbled, half-asleep as she was, all but incoherently as she joined him in his bed, clad only in her underclothes.

"'f he bloody well thinks…comfortable best, I suppose…don't rightly care 'f 's not proper…bed…mmmm."

With that, Wendy's head hit her pillow, a soft moan falling from her pursed lips. Hook barely contained the mirthful laughter that threatened to bubble out of him. Within a few ticks of the clock he could always hear echo in his mind, Hook noted his captive had fallen back into a deep sleep. He watched, entranced, as her chest rose and fell with even breath. The urge to take her was overwhelming, but reached near-fatal proportions when she wriggled her body back against his, her form fitting so deliciously well against his own. He suppressed a groan and rubbed his temples with his left hand and right forearm. He sighed and curled his right arm around Wendy's small form, drawing her even closer to his own body and silently cursing that damned Pan for stealing his right hand. He could never feel her beneath his right palm, could never brush her tears away with his fingers…he sighed again. Having her this close and not being able to take her was exquisite torture. He counted back from one hundred, willing himself to relax. Despite the tension in his nether regions, his tactics worked and Hook joined Wendy in slumber, his hold on her never wavering.

/

/

/

Wendy stared at the arm draped around her in the morning light. She knew that the hook was not an actual part of the Captain's person, but she had never imagined seeing him without it. Further, she had never imagined seeing the severed limb draped around her person as she woke up next to the pirate to which it was attached. She stared at the limb, taking its aspects in as best she could without rousing Hook. Far from the vile wound she had expected, Wendy found his arm to be well-healed and cared for, despite the welts of calloused skin that peppered his forearm, shoulder, and…Wendy daren't turn to look at his chest, more for fear of her response to his likely state of undress than any fear of waking him. Would hardly be ladylike to turn and bury herself in the broad planes of his chest as she so desired. She stole a glance at Hook's desk to draw her out of her lustful thoughts; a leather and metallic contraption lay across it, his hook set on a crimson pillow on top of the desk. It had been polished during the night; she would wager Mr. Smee was behind that. No wonder Hook's body was so calloused…the leather looked new; with how long he had been wearing his hook, he had undoubtedly gone through many of these devices, and probably some much worse, she thought with a shudder. She turned her attention back to Hook's missing appendage. The arm was stumped midway through the forearm, cutting in half what Wendy imagined to be a quite ludicrous tattoo. It appeared to be the remnants of the Eton coat of arms, cut near-perfectly in half. Wendy imagined that, prior to the "incident" which robbed Hook of his right hand, it was quite the stirring representation of pride in one's alma mater. Suddenly, Hook's last words as he had plunged into the crocodile's waiting jaws flitted back into her ears: "Floreat Etona." Of course. She tried not to dwell on the image of the man laying draped around her falling into the mouth of a raging beast.

Wendy, assured that Hook, indeed, remained asleep, and trying to focus her thoughts on something more pleasant than the Captain's devourment, took to stroking his nubbed arm gently. She willed the haunting memories he surely had to resolve, while silently bidding her own to be at rest as well. The Captain's eyes shot open at her ministrations, his pupils lost in the blood-red irises of rage. The memory of waking to another tugging at his right arm drew him out of his slumber with a start. His gaze was wild and body rigid; he flipped Wendy onto her back and sat on top of her, his left hand easily pinning her arms against the bed above her head. Wendy's lips moved, but the adrenaline and blood coursing through his body deafened his ears to her words. His body pulsed, his cock swelling in his primal state at her proximity and precarious position. She groaned as he thrust against her, his pants and her thin skirts providing a very small barrier between them. A small barrier which became even smaller when the Captain pushed the skirts of her underclothing up around her waist and thrust with even more intent at her nude lower half. He kissed her with abandon, she returned with equal fervor. When his searching lips reached the nape of her neck and his teeth grazed the pulsing softness, she moaned his name in a sweet voice. It was that self-same sweetness which broke him from his primal stupor, bringing him crashingly down to the scene of which he was most certainly a part. He blinked Wendy into view; her lips were swollen and red, her chest heaving, her hair and skirts disheveled…everything he wished she would be beneath him. But not like this. No, no, he needed to be in control of all his faculties when he had her…at least the first time. He growled as he stood and stalked away from her, turning his back to the woman on his bed in the hopes that shielding his view of her would quell his lust. When she spoke, he realized the folly in that line of thought.

"James? Have I done something dreadfully wrong?"

She scolded herself for responding too fervently to his advances…wasn't a woman meant to simply lie back and be silent until her husband had taken his pleasure? Is that why Hook…_James_…is that why he had gotten up so suddenly? Had she disgusted him? Wendy's eyes threatened to fill with tears. He sighed and rested his left hand on the desk, his head hanging down, the black ringlets of hair cascading around his shoulders.

"No, my dear, of course not. I…I was taken away by your charms. I fear it is quite difficult to control myself with an intoxicating woman such as yourself beneath me."

He turned to face her, his jaw set.

"I have business to attend to on deck, but I shall return for you in a few hours to take you on a tour of the ship. I shall have the men bring a bath in for you, if that is to your liking."

She nodded fervently.

"Oh, yes, please!"

"Very well…I," he trailed off as his gaze fell on his hook. "I apologize if my…handicap has put any distaste for me in your mind. I assure you, I will not subject you to the sight of it if it can be avoided."

"James, I…."

"Please, Wendy. Do not patronize me. I couldn't bear it from you."

She was silenced by his words. Did he truly think her so monstrous that she would be disgusted by his disfigurement? She certainly wasn't. If anything, it made him more alluring. She frowned as the Captain attempted to put on the harness which allowed him to wear and use his hook. Obviously he was used to an assistant and his pride would not keep her from showing him he was not in the least pitied or an object of distaste. Wendy quietly padded over to him and silently helped the Captain to strap into the leather and metallic sling of sorts. He nodded in thanks as he screwed the metal hook into place. He pulled on a white flowing shirt and his red velvet captain's jacket with a flourish. Wendy smiled at the handsome man before her. As he pulled on his boots, Wendy took his hat from its station at the foot of the bed. She handed it to him with a smile when he stood before her. He debated leaving her without kissing those still-swollen lips, but lost all input in the matter when Wendy raised herself up slightly on tiptoe and kissed him deeply. He allowed himself to be lost in the sensation for a few moments before pulling back and looking down at her. He cleared his throat and muttered what sounded like "Good day, madam," before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. Wendy suppressed a giggle before falling back onto the bed, all thoughts of escape, of Peter Pan, and of England floating out of her memory as the sound of Hook's flabbergasted grumble resounded in her mind.


	13. Chapter 13: Running

RUNNING

"We thought we were running away from the grownups, and now we are the grownups."

Margaret Atwood

Her bath had been wonderful, full of exotically scented spices of unknown origin. Mr. Smee had seen to the ivory tub's instillation in the Captain's quarters, and had carried buckets of steaming water with which to fill it. Wendy was relaxed, clean, and ready to find her Captain. She paused. _Her Captain_. She thought over the words with a smile. It was less than 48 hours and he was suddenly hers. But he was always hers…or, rather, she was always his, she simply finally staked her claim to him. Wendy searched through the closet stocked full of clothes in an effort to find something suitable for the day. She settled on a white velvet gown, its bodice, central panel, and cuffs decorated with black fleur de lys patterns in silken embroidery. The neckline was low, framing her ample bosom, shockingly so by Edwardian standards; Wendy's recent reintroduction to Neverland had quelled the voice of repression that had attempted to imbed itself in her mind as of late so she felt no shame as she pulled it over her frame. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she put on a few touches of the make up she had brought from home. She knew she was not the most beautiful woman ever to grace Neverland but, with the swell of budding love in her breast, she noted a distinct change in her appearance for the better. She hoped Hook could see it too…if ever there was a man in need of reassurance of his value, it was Hook.

Wendy paced the room, dressed, readied, and locked away. Lord it was annoying! She certainly could not seek out another one of the Captain's _picture_ books. She did not think her mind could handle another introduction to the sexual proclivities of her husband…at least not until she experienced them firsthand. She blushed at the thought. She admired his restraint, but wondered at its expiration date…certainly a man such as he could not hold out much longer; Wendy ignored the sultry internal representation of her own voice in her mind that screamed its unhappiness in waiting much longer as well. With a glance around the messy room, she cringed. Wendy decided to make herself useful and tidy up the Captain's quarters; surely he would appreciate her efforts. She folded his cleaned shirts and spirited them away into their rightful resting places; which she assumed were next to their brethren cotton, folded in a chest of drawers. She straightened the oils and soaps, placing them neatly atop the Captain's desk. On Hook's desk, Wendy noted a large, black leather tome. _Ship's Log_ it read, in no uncertain terms, with little frivolity in its text. She bit her lip. Curiosity…now what ever was that adage about curiosity that her schoolteachers had always tried to instill in her, attempting to scare her into submission with the tale of another curious young maiden who attended her school and had gone missing. _Alice_. Her very name struck fear into the hearts of her classmates, but had interested Wendy to no end. The blonde-haired girl was forever in another world, it seemed, much like Wendy had found herself falling back in England; Alice's pale, near-clear, blue eyes were forever searching for some unknown something in every mirror she had passed, or so said her teachers. Then, on her eighteenth birthday, she was gone…leaving a very strange note atop her bed: a hat tag which read "In this style 10/6;" quite odd indeed. At least, she thought, there would be no such confusion by school chums, no "ghost of curious students past" stories told to frighten future young girls into submission…no, for all intents and purposes, Wendy was simply a married lady who had gone to sea with her sea captain husband. Her father had wished them well, had likely sent the announcement to the papers…she sighed, not out of regret for her choice to go with Hook, but for the mundane life her family must think she was leading. How she longed to tell her brothers, both blood and Lost Boy, of her return to Neverland; she knew she couldn't, regretted that they were forever lost to her because, in their growing up, they forgot. All children grow up, save one…it appeared that Wendy Darling was another exception to the rule…a grown up who would never forget Neverland and chose to return to it all too willingly. Yes, Wendy was in Neverland to stay.

She glanced around the Captain's quarters before returning her attention to the leather book before her. Locked away as she was from Hook and the rest of Neverland, she had no reason to concern herself with anything other than the subject at hand: the log of _the Jolly Roger_.

/

/

Boring, boring, boring. Logs of their boring battles with boring Indians; exciting battles made achingly mundane in their description. The only excitement Wendy found in the first few pages through which she read were those pertaining to Peter Pan. _Of course. _The battles described with Pan were richly detailed; she could hear the Captain's voice reading them in her mind.

_Captain's Log, September 21__st__, Year, Unknown. I nearly got that wretched boy today! We battled for hours, days, perhaps. I was close to vanquishing him when he got the upper hand. Blast him and his inhumanly ability of flight. If only I could tap into that self-same ability, we would be on even ground…or even air, more like. Ha! _

_The girl came to me in my dream again. Girl. Woman, rather. Her eyes are intoxicating. Her ripening is almost near its apex. Soon she will reside with me forever. _

Wendy blushed. No doubt she was the subject of his dreams. She wondered if he knew how often she dreamed of him. She flipped forward a few dozen pages, idly searching for her name. She stopped and read when she found it, though, upon completion of the page, she wished she had taken a nap instead of venturing to read the ship's log. A frown replaced the blush on her face and she moved toward the cabin's small porthole window with grave intent. She was smallish of figure and, despite her large bust, fit through the window with ease. Nary the Captain nor those on board noticed as the small, white figure plunged into the sea with a brief splash. Fueled by embarrassment and rage, Wendy's thin arms carried her towards the shore. The mermaids who resided in the depths watched her movement, their hunger sated by the purity of her anger.

/

/

Hook sauntered into the bedroom an hour later, only to find it empty. His enraged scream echoed through the wood of the ship, and the mermaids beneath tittered their amusement.


	14. Chapter 14: Vanished

_VANISHED_

"_Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves - regret for the past and fear of the future." _

_(Fulton Oursler)_

Damnation! She was gone. For all of their progress…for all of his growing attachment to the little wretch…worthless. Worthless. Worthless! He caught his reflection in the mirror, his reddened eyes focusing on his hook. The gilded mirror shattered at the strike of his metallic appendage. How could one so beautiful settle for a fraction of a man such as he? Damn Pan to the bloodiest depths of Hell for stealing his hand. Hook's eyes fell on a scrap of cotton and silk torn from a woman's gown which lay dangling from the porthole window. Wendy. The little fool had leapt into the seas, all under his unwatchful eyes. Hook fought to quell the terror in his chest at the possibility of Wendy's demise at the hands, fins, tentacles, or jaws of some of the less-respectable denizens of Neverland. The thought of Wendy being swallowed, in portions or in whole, shook Captain Hook to his very core.

_It had swallowed him whole. Dear Reader, our story must stop for a moment; a recollection. Our Captain has paused in thought and we too must join him in this memory. Captain James Hook had been driven into the gaping maw of the damned crocodile. In times of trouble, in immense, emotional quakings, he often transported himself back into that moment, that…swallowing. To be eaten alive is horrid; to be chewed, devoured, torn asunder for nourishment is surely terrible in itself, but this was wholly different. He was being savored. Trapped. Digested, slowly, over what would likely be a very long few weeks. Was this what Jonah felt? No wonder his repentance came so quickly. Hook could nigh be persuaded to follow suit, if not for Wendy's young, dancing eyes flickering in the darkened belly of the beast. It was her eyes that saved him, her eyes and Hook's overwhelming desire to cause Pan to suffer the same kind of trembling horrors that awaited Hook in this gurgling reptilian stomach. He had ripped the beast in half, yes, but that feeling…that all-encompassing damp warmth that would have torn away at his clothing, skin, and muscles until only bones remained stayed present within his very soul. These memories tore apart his mind in moments of weakness. The fear of losing Wendy to a similar fate…that was too much for Hook to remain in the present moment. The gurgling of digestion echoed in his ears for a few moments, his eyes finally blinking him back into the present._

He looked around the cabin. He was still alone. Woefully alone. He would find Wendy, that much was certain. And he would return her to the ship if it meant she needed to be bound, gagged, and hoisted over his shoulder. Her rightful place was by his side, why could she not see that? He grimaced as the thought of her staring at his nubbed arm made its presence known in his mind. Of course that was why she left: disgust. One so beautiful could never love a monster…a shell of a man…a…Hook's eyes fell to the still-opened ship's log on his desk.

"Hell-ohh…"

He paled once he read the open page's contents. Would that she left him for mere disgust. He could gouge out her eyes if that was the case and they could carry on as they should. But this…this was betrayal, pure and simple. If any inkling of affection had built in the girl for him, it was surely dashed by now. The scream that fell from Hook's lungs shook the _Jolly Roger _to its baseboards and caused the birds nesting along the shoreline to panic into flight. Mr. Smee ran into the Captain's quarters only to find his master pale and staring blankly ahead of himself.

"Cap'n? Cap'n, what's wrong? Where's Miss Wendy?"

"Gone," Hook said, his voice just scraping past his teeth. "Gone and I doubt she shall return."

Captain Hook's pallor frightened his boatswain, who prodded the normally stubborn man into bed.

"Alright, Sir, just rest for a few hours. I'm sure things'll look brighter after a nice nap."

Too drained and emptied to fight, Captain Hook fell back onto the bed and into a shallow sleep. Mr. Smee paced the room. Why had the Wendy-lady left? His eyes moved to the ship's log, still open on the desk to the offending page.

"Oh my."

He read. And as he read, he worried his lip in his teeth, concerned for the hearts of both his Captain and his Mistress.

_November 1__st__, Year Unknown._

_I did it. I brought Wendy back, and what a treasure she is indeed. The little fool seems to believe I hold her in some high regard…PAH! Me! The infamous Captain Hook, scourge of the seas in two worlds, the only man to frighten Blackbeard, he whom even a mother could not love! I'll pluck her sweet fruits as soon as I wish to and be rid of her…once Pan is destroyed by the loss of his Wendy, of course. Perhaps I'll even keep her around as a mistress, until I tire of her innocence and pathetically inexperienced kisses. Her hidden kiss cannot be so sweet if her freely given ones are any indication. Fumbling and laughable are those kisses…by the time I teach the little chit to do it properly, this will all be over. Seems a pity. _

The Captain's Log continued on the next page, though Miss Darling's embarrassment had caused her to go no further. Mr. Smee had no such feeling.

_I…I cannot continue to lie to myself on this hallowed page. Wendy has captured my heart (an organ I thought long-since perished) just as surely as I have captured her body. I fear she may only ever be mine in body…would that I could capture that silly little heart of hers. Her kisses…inexperienced, yes, but enticing, enthralling…all the better for her purity and the freely given sweetness therein. She makes one wish to drown in her, if only to remain close to such sweetness. Perhaps she can love me, perhaps she can be the only one able to do so…if that is too much, I can only hope that she will at least tolerate my love for her. _

_How could a simple plan of revenge turn out thusly? Why, when I try to think of killing Pan, I can only think of kissing that blasted, wonderful woman? Damnation! _

Mr. Smee would wake the Captain in a few hours. He stuck his pocketed telescope out of the porthole window through which Wendy had escaped. Her retreating form on the beach was visible and he breathed a sigh of relief. She was well, thankfully, and the Captain and his men would be able to get to shore and bring her back soon enough. The greatest dangers in Neverland were either in the seas or close to them, so she was out of the most danger at the very least. Yes, Smee would wake the Captain after he had rested enough to regain his faculties. Until then, Smee would drink. It was an iron-clad plan, to be sure.


	15. Chapter 15: Traversing

TRAVERSING

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

(Henry David Thoreau, _Walden_)

/

The white monstrosity was most decidedly _not_ the gown in which one should traverse the underbrush. The fact that it had gained copious amounts of weight when Wendy leapt into the sea was also compounding her troubles. The once beautiful gown was now soaking wet and besieged with globs of seaweed. Wendy was quite certain a barnacle or two may have attached themselves to her posterior. She sighed and resolved to remove the gown; to hell with propriety, this was Neverland. Wendy stripped the drenched gown off of her frame. How she had ever made it to shore in that thing was magic in its own right. As she hung the gown over an errant tree branch to dry, more out of habit than real hopes that she would be able to salvage the silken dress, she heard a familiar tinkling in the air. She smiled, despite herself.

"Tinkerbell!"

The fairy flitted around Wendy's head for a moment, the tinkling bells of her language growing more insistent, before she flew off as quickly as she had come. Wendy ran after her, dressed only in a sopping wet white corset and pantaloons, the only vestiges of her undergarments she could find in her trunk that morning. Apparently at some point in the night, the Captain had decided to rid her of her more complex under things. She sighed. The Captain. She hated him, didn't she? She slowed her gait when she lost sight of the trail of fairy dust Tinkerbell left behind, before stopping completely and sitting on a tree stump. What a fool she was so think that Captain Hook could have any real feelings for her…he only felt hatred towards Peter. That feeling surely permeated his mind and left no room for any other feelings of affection or happiness or…love; could the Captain every truly love her if he felt so much hatred towards Peter Pan? She wondered. She doubted. She still loved him. Wendy sighed. This was a predicament, most assuredly. Despite the fact that Hook had outlined his plan in plain ink in the ship's log…despite his obvious desire to rid Wendy of her last claims of maidenhood…despite the fact that he had yet to seek her out (she had doubted she would actually even make it to shore without being intercepted by the Captain)…despite every inclination in her mind to forget the lying scoundrel and convince Peter to help her get back to England, despite everything logic tried to convince her of, her heart was having none of it. It had seen into Hook's very soul…past the domineering Pirate Captain and into the doubtful, previously unloved soul that rested inside of him. Wendy bit her lip. She would return to him and show him that he could be loved…no wonder his plan for her was so callous, so terribly uncouth. He did not know how to love as he had never been shown he was worthy of the glorious feeling. But she would not return just yet. She would let him mull over his loss, let his desire for her burn as much as her desire for him scorched her to her soul.

But she would see Peter now, if only for a few moments before returning to the Captain's side. The thought filled her with joy, despite her misgivings. Peter had damaged the man she loved, both physically and mentally. Hook would be eternal, and in that eternal being, he would forever be scarred and somewhat limited. His hand would never grow back, his mind would never cease to be scarred, at least in part. She would attempt to heal his scars as best she could, but her abilities were limited, so deep-seated were those pains. But Peter was a child, would forever be a child, and reveled in the game of it all. To Peter, his actions were not malicious or evil, they were fun. They were pure, unadulterated innocence. But innocence can cause immense pain, as Hook was living proof. Wendy decided to absolve Peter of his crime, at least in part. Forethought was not the boy's strong suit, and the attack was likely a spur of the moment burst of action than anything else. Yes, she would find Peter and then return to the _Jolly Roger _and her life with Captain Hook. She glanced down at the near-transparent garments she was wearing. Had the Captain been in her proximity, the outcome of her transgression would surely be more pleasurable, at least initially. Wendy blushed. She did not happily await the punishment she would certainly receive upon her return to Hook's side. The idea that with the punishment would likely come pleasure made her blush deepen. So encapsulated in her musings, Wendy wandered idly toward where she vaguely recalled Peter Pan's hideout was located. The birds sang. The leaves rustled. Captain Hook slept soundly, away from his sorrow at the loss of his bride. Wendy was propelled head-over-heel in the air, having stepped into a trap undoubtedly set at Peter's request. She screamed until her voice was hoarse and the trapper in question arrived. A new Lost Boy, of no more than age five in appearance, gazed up at her in wonder. He was thin and pale, his brown eyes sparkling and unsure, his blonde hair dirty and uncombed. Dressed in the traditional Lost Boy garb of whatever random pieces of clothing they could bring together, he looked disheveled but comfortable. Blue overalls, obviously not native to Neverland, were worn over his pieced-together shirt, the braces hanging down around his waist. He was barefoot. In his thin arms he carried a worn Velveteen rabbit and a machete, the latter which he handled with great confusion. He looked up at Wendy, sheepishly.

"Hullo."

Wendy did her best to calmly speak to the boy, who was, no doubt, terrified by the lady he had unwittingly captured.

"Good afternoon. My name is Wendy. What is your name?"

He blinked in uncertainty.

"You're Wendy?"

She nodded, though the action was becoming difficult as the blood was rushing to her head and clouding her mind.

"Yes. Wendy."

"_The _Wendy?"

"Yes. And you are?"

He sniffled.

"Haystack."

"Haystack, would you please help me get down? I fear this upside down-hanging may be going to my head."

Haystack nodded sagely.

"Yes'um."

With surprising agility for one so young and small, Haystack climbed the tree from which Wendy dangled and cut her down, never losing his grip on his toy rabbit. Wendy fell to the ground with a thud, thankfully landing in a large pile of leaves beneath her. She groaned as she sat up, her senses still reeling from the blood being tooled around her body. After a few moment's pause which allowed Wendy to regain her composure, she stood. Haystack jumped down from the tree and looked up at her in awe.

"You're Peter's mother. You're supposed to be our mother, but you've been gone."

She nodded. How like Peter to relay that bit of information to the new Lost Boys.

"Yes, I was Peter's mother once. And I need to speak with him now. Would you take me to him, Haystack?"

He thought for a moment and then nodded. He sheathed the machete in a holster of sorts at his hip and grabbed her manicured hand with his dirt-encrusted grubby right hand. She couldn't manage the courage to stop him in his actions, so endearing were they. The pair walked through jungle and forest, meadow and stream, in silence. The flora in Neverland was truly amazing. Wendy felt the need to break the silence, if only for her own comfort and remaining sanity.

"How long have you been a Lost Boy, Haystack?"

He shrugged.

"A few days, I think."

Helpful. A few days in Neverland could be years in her world. She looked over the boy's near-sickly form.

"Are you hungry, Haystack? Does Peter…does he forget to feed you?"

At this, Haystack shook his head vehemently.

"Oh no, Ma'am! Peter's been most kind to be and my little sister. We've all the food we can eat now! It's wondrous to go to bed without the gurglings."

"Gurglings?"

He rolled his eyes as they trugged forward. Adults were so obtuse sometimes.

"Yes'um. The noises your belly makes when you go to bed hungry too many times. It near kept Felicity up most nights."

"Felicity?"

"My sister."

"Ah. And she's come with you to Neverland?"

He nodded.

"It's hard taking care of her, but lots easier than it was back home."

"You had to care for your sister? Alone?"

"Well no one else was going to do it, Ma'am."

Wendy balked. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Where are your parents?"

He shrugged.

"Dead. I think. I don't know. Doesn't rightly matter now, does it? We're safe here. Peter feeds us, we have loads of pirates to fight, and now we have a real mother to tell us stories and kiss us goodnight!"

It was all Wendy could do to keep from weeping. As it was, she simply gripped Haystack's dirty little hand more firmly in her own and the pair walked on in silence.

/

/

Hook awoke with a groan, which was soon replaced by a resolution. He would return Wendy to the ship, strap her to his bed, and punish her for daring to leave him. His eyes flashed red. He would punish her, and then stake his claim to her body fully. They would be one. She could never leave him then. Once joined they would…hell, he would never allow her a moment's reprieve from his watchful gaze if he had his way. But Wendy deserved more. Deserved some modicum of his trust. After she was shown she was not safe from his grasp anywhere in Neverland. Yes. A completely logical thought. Captain Hook called for Smee. A bath was readied for the handsome pirate Captain. His best suit was laid out for him. His hook was polished. For all intents and purposes, it appeared that he was going courting as opposed to the task that truly was at hand. Or at hook. He stared at his reflection in the remnants of the mirror that still clung to their place in the wall. He certainly made a handsome figure, despite, or perhaps because of his _infirmity. _Beautiful, menacing, imposing…he sighed. He hoped he was all Wendy desired. He would find the girl, if it took every moment of his eternal life. The woman would be the death of him, and what a sweet release it would be.

The transport boats were manned. He boarded one. His sword was sheathed, his left hand itching to draw the metal and demand Wendy returned to him. If he could kill Pan in the process, so be it; his main objective was the girl. The woman. His woman. His Wendy.


	16. Chapter 16: Rekindling

_REKINDLING_

"Let no one who loves be unhappy, even love unreturned has its rainbow."

(J.M. Barrie)

Peter Pan was bored. Incessantly bored. Horrifically, unequivocally bored. He pushed leaves around the ground. Bored. He threw a ball at the ceiling of his tree trunk hideout. It bounced back to him eagerly. Still bored. He sighed. Peter Pan rarely sighed. Captain Hook had been decidedly quiet the past few days. What was keeping the dastardly villain so preoccupied? Surely there was something? Peter wracked his brain for the answer. It seemed to be there, teasing him in his cerebellum, but he could not for the life of him recall what had changed. Such was the mind of the eternal child; he was unable or unwilling to _remember, _at least as regards things which did not directly effect himself. Even so, he had difficulty recalling his own deeds. Wendy had come in handy in that effect. _Wendy. _Yes. She had something to do with the some something he couldn't remember! Right? He pondered. And as he pondered, he lifted off of the ground. He sat against the ceiling, pondering thusly until a commotion sounded outside of the tree. What in the world…?

The Lost Boys, the new ones Pan had recruited since his former troupe had been so cruelly taken to grow up from him, surrounded a drenched and nearly naked woman. Peter scrunched his face in distaste and flew up to stand before her, parting the way through the various boys standing in the dirt and leaves. She smiled. It was beatific. A coming home. Peter mentally scowled. Who was this woman? Why was she smiling at him in such a…_motherly _fashion? He realized then. _Mother. Wendy_. His eyes widened. He stared at her in awe.

"Wendy?"

She nodded, the joyous smile still plastered on her sun-drenched face.

"Hello, Boy."

"Where've you been?"

"Home. In England. Don't you remember? You brought us home after you fed the Captain to the crocodile."

The Lost Boys cheered. Peter beamed; how he _adored _hearing of his own exploits.

"Oh yes! I remember now! The old codfish managed to escape! Did you know that?"

Wendy smiled.

"Yes, Peter. I've been living with the Captain for a few days now. He was the one who brought me back to Neverland."

One of the Lost Boys stepped forward, a scowl on his tan face. He was of Asian descent; had Wendy been versed in the differences between the different countries in the Orient, she would have known from where the boy originated. As it was, she was ignorant, as we must remain. Suffice it to say, the boy was tan and tall, dark-haired, save for three streaks of red-dyed hair jutting through the middle and sides of his head which were peaked above the rest of his hair. His face held a harshness to it, a pained, vacant expression which belied a vacant mind. Truly he was as quick and as harsh as his face denoted. Wendy was most assuredly not taken in by the lies his detached expression attempted to showcase. He was dangerous. More dangerous than Pan in his ignorant childishness could ever be.

"So you're the new pirate woman, eh? I say kill her, Peter! Death to all pirates!"

The Lost Boys cheered. Peter silenced them with a hovering glare.

"Who made you the boss, Rufio? Certainly not I. Can you fly, Rufio? Can you crow?"

The older boy backed down, a blush creeping into his cruel face. Peter beamed in the superiority of innocence.

"No. I am the Pan. I am the Leader. I am the Father," he trailed off as he glanced at Wendy. "And she was the Mother. She was my Mother. She read us stories, me and the Lost Boys before you lot. They were wonderful stories. Stories about me. About adventures. _My _adventures."

The Lost Boys, save Rufio, were taken in by Peter's thoughts. _Stories_. How _wonderful_ it would be to have stories again. They had almost forgotten what a bedtime story was. Peter appraised Wendy, flying around her form disjointedly; the Lost Boys around him awaited their cues as to how to respond. Haystack had yet to release his surprisingly firm grip on her hand.

"You look different."

She nodded.

"Yes, Peter. I grew up."

He scoffed.

"Grew up? How like a girl!"

The girl populace in the camp did not voice their disgust at the statement, their numbers being limited to just the pair: Wendy and Felicity, the latter being ever so much less than three. In truth, Miss Felicity West, who was even now toddling towards Haystack with candy-sticky hands, was just beyond her nineteenth month of existence on this planet, could not be truly offended on the basis of the presumed inferiority of her sex and Wendy was too engrossed in the joys of her reintroduction to the wondrously eternal boy of her youth to give pause to his callous remark. Wendy's attention turned from Peter to Felicity, an act which gave Peter pause to pout most resolutely. Wendy smiled down at the girl, whose blonde hair was just as dirtied and cut in the same unflattering mop on her head as her brother's was. She dropped Haystack's tiny hand and picked Felicity up in one fell swoop.

"Well good afternoon, Miss Felicity!"

The child laughed uproariously and clapped her sticky hands together. A smell reached Wendy's nostrils, a smell which she was sure would permeate the area if left untended.

"Haystack?"

"Yes'um?"

"Who is in charge of…I mean, that is to say…I…uhh, who has been taking care of Miss Felicity's nappies?"

The other Lost Boys and Peter laughed at the question and Haystack blushed, glancing down at the dirt.

"I am, Ma'am."

Wendy blanched.

"You? But you're…you're so tiny yourself, how could you…?"

He shrugged.

"She's my sister, Mother Wendy. I've been changing her since she could walk."

A sadness enveloped Wendy, who pressed a quick kiss to the toddler's dirty forehead.

"Peter?"

He perked up, finally being acknowledged again.

"Yes?"

"Isn't there a stream of fresh water nearby?"

He nodded.

"Hooray! You _do _remember Neverland!"

"Of course I do, Peter. I need you to take me to it. Do you have soaps?"

He crinkled his nose in disgust.

"Soaps?"

Haystack pulled at the fabric of her pantaloons. He held in his dirty hand a bar of pure, ivory-colored soap, still wrapped in vellum.

"I brought that from home when Peter…when he brought us to Neverland. It was my mother's."

Wendy smiled again.

"Haystack, you come with Peter, Felicity, and I. We're going to have a bath. How does that sound?"

Haystack glanced around him, unsure of the reaction he would get from his fellow Lost Boys. Correctly judging the response required of him, he scowled, but it did not reach his eyes which held an eagerness that Wendy instantly recognized.

"A bath! I'm a Lost Boy, I don't need a bath! Baths are for girls and pirates! But I'll go with you…to keep an eye on Felicity."

Peter sighed and took off towards the stream, Wendy following close behind him with Felicity still cooing happily in her arms. Haystack ran after them, more eager to be clean than he had ever been in his short life.

/

/

/

Hook allowed his men to cut through the underbrush to provide him a clearer path through the wilderness. One called out to him a few hundred yards ahead of their party.

"Oi! Cap'n! I found som'fin you may want ta see!"

The Captain pushed his way through the crew, a sweatied bunch of scallywags picked up through his years of immortal existence in Neverland. The sight which with he was greeted was most unwelcome. Somewhere on this island was his wife. His virginal, pure, beautiful, infuriating wife.

And she was in her skivvies.


	17. Chapter 17: Of Baths and Jungles

_OF BATHS AND JUNGLES_

"Before you slip into unconsciousness  
>I'd like to have another kiss<br>Another flashing chance at bliss  
>Another kiss, another kiss<p>

The days are bright and filled with pain  
>Enclose me in your gentle rain<br>The time you ran was too insane  
>We'll meet again, we'll meet again<p>

Oh tell me where your freedom lies  
>The streets are fields that never die<br>Deliver me from reasons why  
>You'd rather cry, I'd rather fly."<p>

(The Doors, _The Crystal Ship_).

This was getting ridiculous. Wendy was his. She needed to be with him. _Now_. Hook's already thin patience was wearing further. If only he could _remember_ the path to the blasted boy's hideout they would be en route back to their home. But therein lay the problem. With their immortality came a forgetting. An amnesia. Once discovered, Pan's hideout would remain mapped out for days. Months if one was lucky. But, in time, the memory would fade. The maps would disintegrate on tables as if oxygen itself was employed in keeping the boy safe. Would that any creature or element in this world or the other cared that much for James Hook. _Wendy did_, his mind taunted him. _Wendy cared and you threw it in her face with your silly pride._ _Bravo, James, bravo._ He cursed in his mind; he cursed at his mind. The pirate troupe trugged through a jungle, the various growls and chirps that resounded above and below them reminding the men of the dangers that lay within Neverland, especially for those in the pirate profession. They had been searching for hours to no avail. His men were tired, ornery, fatigued. Hook's desire-fueled adrenaline kept him from feeling the effects of the long journey and harshness of the wilderness by which they had been surrounded for hours.

"Onward, men! A day's wages doubled to the first one of you who can find the wench unharmed. A day's wages tripled if you find her within the hour!"

A roughened pirate stepped forward, his skin and the whites of his eyes yellowed with what one could only assume to be the beginnings of jaundice or a very poor genealogical lineage.

"And if we find her dead, Cap'n?"

A fierce look crossed Hook's chiseled features.

"I would decidedly pray against that if I were you."

Captain Hook glared around him, taking stock of the pirates around him. Cruel, villainous, uncouth, terrors, and Smee. His eyes bored into Mr. Smee's spectacled eyes.

"Make sure I have no reason to harm the crew, Mr. Smee."

"Aye, Sir."

Hook trekked onward, leaving the crew to be commanded in their pursuits by a most-terrified boatswain. He cleared his throat. He spoke. His voice cracked as he did so.

"M-m-m-men! The C-c-c-cap'n wants us to make the most of our numbers on the island. I s-s-s-say we spread out and find Miss Wendy straight away."

The same jaundiced pirate who had challenged Hook before looked down on Smee with a sneer.

"And who's made you in charge, pudgy? Maybe we don't _want_ to find the Cap'n's wench. Maybe we want to go back to the ship and pirate…let the one-handed todger sort his whore out on his…."

Sulfur and billows of white smoke spread out through the clearing. The jaundiced pirate collapsed onto the mossy ground in a heap of blood, lead, and gunpowder. Captain Hook blew on the tip of the still-smoking pistol in his hand before turning around and again stomping forward into the island. He may have lost a hand to the blasted boy, but Captain Hook's hearing was still impeccable. While his men spread out across the island, Captain Hook followed the path his heart called him towards. He hoped to the gods he doubted were in existence that he would find her. But once she was back within his metal grasp, what would he do with her? Wring her neck within an inch of her life? Maybe. Kiss her until she nearly suffocated? Most assuredly. His mind filled with a thousand possibilities, each urging him onward despite the growing exhaustion threatening to overtake him.

/

More hours had passed. Wendy was nowhere in sight. Hook was beginning to become frantic. Where was the damned chit? She'd no right to terrify him thus…no right. She needed to be home. With him. Safe. Captain Hook's very soul cried out to the heavens for her deliverance. As Hook always doubted his soul remained intact, the thought of offering that indescribable thing in exchange for Wendy's safe return never crossed his addled mind. But he begged; and begged in a manner so unbefitting a proud pirate Captain that ink refuses to describe it in full detail.

The Captain's degrading mental stability caused him some modicum of panic with every birdcall and rustle in the underbrush. If he didn't find Wendy soon, he feared he may well completely lose his senses. His eyes, red tinges flickering in and out of his irises, danced around the landscape, attempting to glean to where his bride may have run. The sound of laughter and splashing water in the distance piqued his interest. The woman brought joy where'er she went…could it be her bringing laughter to this uncharted wilderness?

/

/

Wendy sang as she bathed Felicity, who was smelling decidedly fresher now that she was relatively clean. One of the legs of Wendy's pantaloons had martyred itself to create a makeshift nappie for the toddler. What they would do once it was soiled and the other leg of Wendy's pantaloons fell victim to the little ones…movements was of no concern to Peter, who flew around the stream, buzzing the water with his toes every-so-often. Haystack laughed at his mentor's actions. His blonde mat of hair was soaped up and his clothes, now scrubbed, were drying on some large sun-soaked rocks. Haystack had kept his underpants on, though Wendy had instructed him most sternly that he needed to clean _everywhere_. She had broken off a piece of the coveted ivory soap and let the boy have at it. He did surprisingly well, but Wendy had taken it upon herself to clean his hair, using the action as an excuse to check for lice. Grateful she had found him dirty but otherwise uninfested, she set about forming his hair into some ridiculous spikes before turning her attentions back to Felicity. She sang a sea shanty that had resounded in her mind for years; she wondered at its origin…likely she had overheard Mr. Smee or one of the other, kinder, pirates singing it during her first stay on the _Jolly Roger._ The voice she had heard had been kind and decidedly Irish. It _must_ have been Smee. She hoped she did him justice; as her memory of the song was not fully recalled, she trailed off where the lyrics failed. Felicity clapped along as she sang, fully enjoying the enchanting lilt of Wendy's voice.

_The maiden, oh, the maiden, oh._  
><em>The sailor loves the maiden, oh!<em>  
><em>So early in the morning,<em>  
><em>The sailor loves the maiden, oh!<em>

_A maid that is young, a maid that is fair,_  
><em>A maid that is kind and pleasant, oh,<em>  
><em>So early in the morning,<em>  
><em>The sailor loves the maiden, oh!<em>

_Tobacco, oh, tobacco, oh,_  
><em>The sailor loves tobacco, oh,<em>  
><em>So early in the morning,<em>  
><em>The sailor loves tobacco, oh.<em>

_…_

_A bottle of brandy, bottle of gin,_  
><em>A bottle of Irish whisky, oh!<em>  
><em>So early in the morning<em>  
><em>The sailor loves his bottle, oh!<em>

_The maiden oh, the bottle, oh,_  
><em>A pipe of good tobacco, oh,<em>  
><em>So early in the morning<em>  
><em>The sailor loves all these, heigh ho.<em>

_These are the sailor's loves, heigh ho._

Peter flew at Wendy as she ended her song.

"It sounds like you _like_ the life of a pirate, Wendy!"

She blushed.

"I always did, Peter. Remember? I was Red Handed Jill once."

He nodded and then broke into a smile.

"Yes! It was all a fine jest! I fed old Hook to the crocodile that day!"

Wendy sighed. She couldn't fault him for continuing to be the child she knew he was.

"Yes, Peter. That you did."

"And wasn't it _grand_?"

Felicity interrupted Wendy's faltering answer with a loud squeal. Wendy laughed and lifted the girl into her arms again. She was thankful that Haystack had the forethought to bring a pilfered and surprisingly clean sheet with them; it provided ample length and space to dry the pair of them. Wendy dried Felicity's hair, the younger girl giggling as she was dried and Wendy laughing melodically at her reaction. How _wonderful_ children of this age were. The thought caused Wendy to pause. Lost Boys never grew up; what a joy for a child, what a nightmare for a toddler. To never grow older than two years of age…to never develop full speech, fluid movements…this was no game. Wendy resolved to help Felicity, and Haystack for that matter. They deserved to grow, _needed_ to. But how exactly to do that was beyond her…she could adopt them, yes, but then pirates never grew either. Wendy was at an impasse. She would sleep on it. Yes. An excellent notion. Perhaps she would even ask Captain Hook for his opinion on the topic, though it was certain to be something vile…the pirate had never endeared himself to any child, save, of course, herself. So entrapped in the redressing of the toe-headed pair of tots, Wendy failed to notice the terrifying, half-crazed, lustful man who stared at her from a distance.

Captain Hook watched as Wendy redressed a young boy and a near-infant female. The thought of having children with Wendy came unwittingly into his head. Surprisingly, the thought did not terrify him as the thought of reproduction once had. He shook the idea out of his mind. First he needed to get Wendy back…but _Pan_ was in full view. And his ratfink Lost Boys were surely within earshot. Captain Hook fought against his heart's desire and decided to bide his time. He would follow the troupe back toward Pan's hideout and make camp not far away; he'd steal away with his roaming bride as soon as night fell.


	18. Chapter 18: Spinning Yarns

_SPINNING YARNS_

"O Youth undimmed, Eternal Boy,

Fairest in the heavens;

Without your horns, your countenance

Is lovely as a maiden's"

(Ovid, _Metamorphoses_)

The soothing melody of Wendy's voice had lulled a good percentage of the Lost Boys into a sound sleep as she recounted one of Peter Pan's numerous exploits. The rest of the Lost Boys listened with rapt attention as the beautiful woman settled down to begin another story. All awake listened, save one, whose tanned face was set in a scowl, its owner hanging his red-streaked head in a definitive sulk as he perched atop a nearby tree branch. Wendy's voice carried along the breeze and caressed the ears of her would-be lover; the pirate Captain's sense of urgency was subdued as he, too, lost himself in her tale.

Wendy's bright expression stilled as she sat down again in front of the Lost Boys. She looked over each of them, her eyes boring deep into their own.

"Have you mulberries in Neverland?"

Peter nodded.

"Yes, of course, Wendy. We eat their fruit whenever we can find them!"

She nodded, sagely.

"Ah. Then you know of its bright coloring."

"Red," an errant voice of a Lost Boy shouted out.

"The color of blood," shouted another.

"Yes," Wendy agreed. "They are red. As red as the blood that courses through your veins. But they were once white."

The Lost Boys and Peter muttered their disapproval, but she continued.

"Indeed they were white. Hundreds and hundreds of years ago."

"But they are no longer white, Mother Wendy," Haystack piped in, his voice unsteady and confused.

"No they are not. Would you like to hear the story of how that came to pass?"

The Lost Boys cheered. Farther away, Captain Hook, his attention still held, though he was decidedly out of view, silently begged his assent. Wendy smiled, though somewhat sadly.

"Alright, you lot. I shall tell you. But be warned, it is a tale of great sorrow and death."

"Death is the biggest adventure of all, Wendy," Peter said.

"One could argue that, Peter. But listen now. There once was a young man, the handsomest man in all of the world."

Haystack raised his hand, meekly, an action Wendy was attempting to endear to the Lost Boys whenever they had questions to reduce the overwhelming chaos that usually detracted from her stories. She nodded at him, indicating he could speak.

"What was his name?"

"I was getting to that, dear," she said with a smile. "Hush now. His name was Pyramus, and he was the handsomest of men. He was strong and brave, but he had a secret. He was in love with someone."

The boys groaned and questioned her en masse.

"Love?"

"Why's he hafta love someone?"

"We don't want to hear a girly love story, do we Boys?"

Wendy clapped her hands together, bringing them back to attention.

"Boys, settle down. I promise you, listen to the story and all will be made clear. Pyramus was in love with a beautiful woman who lived next door to him. She was the most beautiful in all the lands. Her name was Thisbe; but their love could not be. Their parents had feuded for years, over some trifling matter whose origin was long forgotten, yet still they forbade Pyramus and Thisbe from ever speaking."

She smiled.

"But though they were from different worlds, love found a way. At first, they communicated in silent glances and gestures; it was painful to never hear the voice of someone held so dear, but better than their complete absence. Then, they discovered a wall that ran between their homes with a narrow crack small enough to pass loving whispers through. They spoke. Oh and _how _they spoke! To finally hear your lover's voice…to hear your own name on their sweet tongue was ecstasy indeed. But 'twas not enough. The human heart aches for more, and Pyramus and Thisbe burned to be together. They planned an escape, kissed the cool stone wall between them to seal their fate. They would flee the city, would run together to some far off land and live forever in love. Tonight. They would steal away tonight; they decided to meet by a mulberry tree of unequalled beauty which lay before a tomb and a marble fountain.

Thisbe was able to run first, her feet itching to carry her away as soon as the sun began to dip into the oceans. She veiled herself to avoid detection and snuck through the night to the mulberry tree. Pyramus was not there yet! And so she waited, sitting by the fountain over which the mulberry tree hung, her heart burning as intensely all of the stars in the heavens. A lapping at the fountain drew Thisbe from her focus; she turned to see a she-lion, her mouth besieged with blood from a recent kill, drinking from the fountain. In horror, Thisbe ran into the tomb to hide, her veil falling off of her in her hurry. The lioness, as soon as she was filled with water, sniffed at the veil and batted the material around with her large paws, her deadly jaws tearing into it as she played.

It was upon this scene that Pyramus finally arrived. The she-lion stalked away in search of other prey as he came out of the shadows. His heart screamed in agony when he recognized the veil to be Thisbe's.

'Oh cruel Fates,' he cried, thinking his intended to have been eaten by the beast, 'Mine is the guilt…would that I had come earlier than my dearest one so this horrible death would have been mine. But she shall not pass to Hades alone. I was to join her in life and so I shall in death as well.'

And with a cry, Pyramus took his sword and ran himself through, his blood spattering the white fruits of the mulberry tree before him. The fruit became speckled with red, its white flesh still apparent through the dottings of the new hue. It was upon this horror that Thisbe stumbled, once she had stepped out of the tomb, assured by her senses the she-lion was gone. Her soul ached as she saw the body of her lover splayed upon the fountain. She kissed his cold lips and cursed the death that tried to keep them apart, as once their parents had.

'I shall follow him to the ends of forever,' she cried, before following Pyramus in like action, drawing from her intended his sword and falling upon it herself. Her blood mingled with her lover's, spattering the remaining white patches on the mulberries above them and covering the white fruit so it was fully red. The white fruits nearly glowed with the hue of their intermingled blood; never had their been a fruit so purely red as that. Their parents discovered them in the morning, beneath the red mulberry tree. From that day onward, all of the mulberry trees grew only red berries. The depths of their love touched their parents so deeply that they buried them in a single tomb, so their love would meet no further resistance. It was whispered, even, that when the pair arrived in the Underworld, Persephone relayed their story to her husband, Hades, and the normally strict god of those terrifying depths allowed the lovers to forever remain together, their whispers finally unrestricted."

When Wendy concluded her story, the Lost Boys were blanketed with an awed silence. It was a scraggly-limbed boy who broke it, his front-toothless grin lighting up in the twilight near-darkness cast over Neverland. He had been dubbed Long-Shot by Peter for no apparent reason other than his ability to skip a stone further than any Lost Boy who ever lived. Long-Shot applauded. The rest of the Boys who had heard the tale, even Peter, followed suit and cheered Wendy loudly. Haystack raised his hand, but did not wait to be called upon to speak.

"Mother Wendy, why did they have to die?"

She smiled, sadly.

"Everyone dies, Haystack. It is why life is so very wonderful to live…if we were assured of our own eternal existence, we would not appreciate how very fragile we are, and how very much love is needed to make it all worthwhile. For what good is immortality if one has no one to love? Better to allow love to burn bright than allow it to be quenched."

Haystack scowled.

"Love's for sissies and girls!"

Wendy laughed.

"No it is not, Haystack. Why, look at you! You love just as surely as Pyramus did!"

"I do not, either," he countered.

"You do. You love your sister. You care for her above all others, even yourself. Haystack, you love. It is nothing to be ashamed of. There are so many different kinds of love…so many different kinds of fulfillment one can glean from each kind of love. Love does not make you weak. Love makes you _wonderful_."

He smiled at that. No one had ever called him wonderful, directly or indirectly. The thought burned into him. He did love his sister. He would die for her; hell, he almost _had_, which was why he would be forever indebted to Peter Pan. Peter had saved him, but more importantly his sister, from certain death. Haystack knew he would have died first, his body was still feeling the deep effects of starvation, though the painful hunger was finally quelled and his body was regaining a fuller shape. He would have certainly died first, but when he did so, Felicity would have soon followed. With no one to care for her, she would have starved to death eventually, or had some other fate of the elements befall her. Haystack's young mind had matured very quickly as sole caregiver for an infant. But now that Peter had brought him to Neverland and Wendy was there to be his mother, all would be wonderful in his world. _Wonderful_. He laughed inwardly. Mother Wendy called him _wonderful_.

Wendy put all of the Lost Boys off to bed, kissing all but one of them goodnight on their foreheads. Rufio, it was apparent, _hated _Wendy. She had dealt with too many different men's egos and personalities within the past three days to put up with anymore nonsense. She glared at the boy, attempting to instill in him some modicum of a personable nature.

"You make it very difficult for anyone to get close to you, don't you, Rufio?"

He scoffed, lounging on top of his bed, his hands wrapped behind his head.

"I don't _want _anyone to be close to me. Most certainly not an ugly old pirate lady."

Wendy sighed. This boy was most assuredly lost. He needed reassurance, though she was loathe to give it to him at the moment, so fatigued was she.

"You have much potential for greatness, child. I wish that you would allow yourself the happiness that comes with being truly great. Goodnight."

With that she left him to mull over her words and the story he certainly did _not _listen to.

Peter, too, it seemed, did not want a goodnight kiss, but this was no new happenstance. He bowed before Wendy before taking off to his bed and his dreams filled with adventures and laughter. Wendy smiled as she picked up a few of the errant articles of clothing strune about the area. She could wash them in the morning before she left. How long would she stay here? And when she left, would it be alone? She yawned and did not attempt to stifle it. Oh dear. Well, she would think more on that in the morning. She padded off to her makeshift bed under the stars. As they faded from view, her eyes fluttering shut under her dark eyelashes, her body ached for the caress of Captain Hook. Were his arms around her, she would most definitely feel much less shaken by her own bloody tale!

Captain Hook, for whom the story and its exposition hit especially hard, had to focus on his own breathing to keep from falling into a fit…whether of love or rage, he could not discern. Whatever it meant, he knew he could not wait much longer to have Wendy at his side. A few more hours, three at the most, to make sure the encampment was abed and he would steal her away. A few more hours and she would be writhing beneath him, as she should be. A few more hours and he would confess his love. They would never be apart again if he could help it.

Author's Note:

First, thank you all for your wonderful reviews. It makes me so happy to see every new one. I hope that the story is progressing just as you all hoped it would. Secondly, I want to make sure that I reference from whence came Wendy's story. Ovid's _Metamorphoses_, which I urge everyone to read (if only for Ovid's hilarious sense of humor peppered throughout the mythology), is my source for both the quote at the beginning of this chapter, the chapter title itself, and Wendy's story. The version here is my own rendition, of course, but is very close to the original I have, translated to English by Charles Martin. Again, it is a _wonderful_ translation and I urge all of you who haven't read it to pick it up...it is written in easily accessible English and the tales are just enthralling.

I wish you and yours the best. Thank you for reading. It is an honor to have anyone give my story a second's pause.

-Rachel


	19. Chapter 19: Homecoming

_HOMECOMING_

"Sex is as important as eating or drinking and we ought to allow the one appetite to be satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the other."

(Marquis de Sade)

/

Wendy awoke with a stifled gasp. A definitively male hand was clasped around her mouth. The scent of salt and alcohol and tobacco filled the air…_Hook_. She groaned and attempted to reach her arms around him to embrace him, but found her arms quite restricted. Her legs too, for that matter. He had her arms and legs bound in thick white rope. _Oh this was just ridiculous! _She struggled against her captor briefly, but one glance at his eyes stilled her. His eyes fluctuated between icy blue and his furious glowing red. His instability terrified her. Best to succumb to her second kidnapping. It wasn't like she wasn't going to go back to him, eventually that is. Wendy relaxed into his arms as she was carried to the little encampment where Hook had spent the majority of the night mulling over his course of action. She was surprised that none of the Lost Boys or even Peter had awoken to the intruder. But they had been exhausted from the excitement of her stories and were likely in very deep sleep. She wriggled to find some comfort against the ropes, but found it difficult. But Captain Hook had her in his arms, frantic though his mind may be at the moment. They walked for what seemed like hours before his gruff whisper warmed her ear.

"Don't scream. If you scream, I'll go back and kill them all."

When she nodded her assent, his hand left her lips. She immediately was pained at the loss.

"James, what ever are you doing?"

The use of his Christian name did not dissuade Captain Hook from the task at hand. He was to make the wench his by morning's rising, at any cost. The flecks of orange in the otherwise dismal black night denoted his time was running short. His hand ran over her face, she closed her eyes in ecstasy at his touch. She moaned his name. It was his undoing. His hook cut through the ropes with ease. She was free. Free and writhing in his arms.

He kissed her and the moon shattered. Her heart ached to leap onto his hook in supplication, begging for mercy, dreaming of requited love, dazzling in its unmarred purity. The slights and blows it had weathered in the past were forgotten: Peter's forgotten promise, her mother's death, her father's inability to look at her once her mother had died, Captain Hook's own dismissal of her import, all of these things had failed to tarnish the pure mass of muscle and blood which allowed Wendy to love the one she once deemed unlovable. And now, that unmarred organ sat perched atop Hook's glimmering metallic appendage, readied to be torn asunder, to be forever broken by his cruelty Wendy knew was harbored deep in the Captain's soul. She couldn't bring herself to weep for her heart, gifted so freely to Hook, for she knew it had been his all along.

"I love you," she offered, her voice a breath away from silence.

He had kissed her, the moon had shattered. Her heart remained intact. The Captain looked at her, unbelieving for a moment, his eyes questioning the validity of her statement. When he found his voice in the cricketed night, it cracked with the uncertainty of emotion he thought was long-since dead within him.

"Pardon me, Miss Darling?"

She smiled, though it did not reach her eyes, so palpable was the fear of rejection coursing through her.

"I said 'I love you.' You needn't respond if you do not…."

Now was not the time for words. Now was the time for action. Captain Hook was a man of action. He kissed her, the shattered moon begged for respite. He pushed her torn pantaloons onto the ground beneath them, and his hook made short work of the threads still clinging to the tattering corset about her chest that shone in the bespattered moonlight. She soon stood before him, naked, in the pale blue midnight. He divested himself of his coat and laid it down on the mossy ground, peppering Wendy's neck with kisses as he pulled her into his arms. He laid her down on his coat with all the gentleness he could muster at such a moment. His breeches were lowered, his readied cock sprang forth. Wendy's legs parted of their own volition and she moaned in anticipation. Captain Hook took a shuddering breath, catching her glowing eyes in his own.

"Once we cross this threshold, my love, there is no turning back. No Lost Boys, no Pan, no games. Only me. If you wish to go no further, tell me now. My control is quickly waning."

Wendy responded with a plundering kiss, her tongue dancing with Hook's, her taut legs wrapping around his waist, begging him to culminate their union.. He could not resist. He was only a man, after all. A man very much in love with the wanton girl undulating beneath him. He again caught her gaze.

"I love you, you wretchedly wonderful woman."

If the severing of her last ties to childhood changed Wendy at all, they did not notice. If the breaking of her maidenhead caused her pain, Wendy did not notice. All they saw, heard, and felt was ecstasy; a melding of souls and bodies. They cried out their mutual release in a fury of soprano and baritone notes. At the moment of their release, their _joining_, a near imperceptible flicker passed from Hook's pupils to Wendy's. Imperceptible to the human eye, perhaps, but the voyeur perched in the treetops above them balked at this new turn of events. How the silly humans could ignore such a monumental happening! Could they not _feel _the magic, the creation, floating in the air as their damned ignorant eyes echoed? Could they not taste the splendor of new beginnings? Tinkerbell tittered in amusement…what fools these humans were, be they mortal or otherwise inclined.


	20. Chapter 20: Of Taming Rebellious Birds

_OF TAMING REBELLIOUS BIRDS_

"L'oiseau que tu croyais surprendre

battit de l'aile et s'envola ...

l'amour est loin, tu peux l'attendre;

tu ne l'attends plus, il est là!

Tout autour de toi, vite, vite,

il vient, s'en va, puis il revient ...

tu crois le tenir, il t'évite,

tu crois l'éviter, il te tient.

L'amour! L'amour! L'amour! L'amour!"

(Bizet, _Carmen_ - _Habanera_)

*translation available at the end of this chapter

/

/

The calming rocking of the ship roused Wendy from her slumber in a most lovely fashion. She yawned and stretched out, her body filled with a delicious ache. James had brought her home sometime after their…reunion. She blushed at the thought and snuggled back down into the warmth of the covers. Reaching a tentative hand over to the Captain's side of the bed, she somewhat surprisingly found it vacant. Her eyes shot open and she sat up, her content retracting for a moment until she noticed the site before her. Captain Hook, disheveled, exhausted, and in a state of barely-contained panic, stared at her, unblinkingly from his seat on the plush chair opposite the bed. After they had…_culminated_ their union, he brought her aboard the ship and watched her. All night. He must have, that was the only reasoning behind his mussed appearance. Wendy suppressed a smile. They had culminated their union. No sense in ignoring the fact or leaving her feelings unspoken in the pale morning light.

"Good morning, husband."

Her voice, so full of achingly blatant affection, shook the Captain to his very core. He had stayed awake the whole of the evening, staring at Wendy's sleeping form, terrified she would again run from him. They'd made love, but was that enough to bind her to him for eternity? Certainly not. He had such hope that she truly meant the loving words she had spoken to him, but had he not also spoken words he hadn't meant in the heat of passion? But this was Wendy…_his _Wendy. Incapable of harming a soul. Had he a soul? He balked internally. Of course he did. He always had. It was just a thing so tarnished and vulgar that it rarely reared its soiled head. But now it glowed. Glowed in the morning light and glowed only for the maiden who was staring so intently at him from his own bed. His panic receded. His exhaustion, though still achingly affecting his tired limbs and mind, relaxing into mere sleepiness. He smiled at her, a real, warm smile that seemed unnatural on his untrained lips.

"Good morning, wife. I trust you slept well?"

She blushed.

"Aye. After last night, I believe I must have melted into goo. I don't even recall coming aboard the ship. I apologize I was not more helpful in my transportation."

He laughed, his blue eyes alight with mirth.

"You needn't apologize on my behalf, Wendy Darling."

She raised a brow.

"Wendy Hook."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head and snuggled back into the covers.

"It is Wendy Hook now, is it not? I am your wife, after all, I thought that wives took their husbands names. Though if you wish me not to, I…."

He growled. It did not have the menacing lustre it once had. He had that damned now-sparkling soul to blame for that.

"If I had my way, poppet, no one but myself would speak your name."

She pouted.

"'Twould be a very sad fate for my name, sir. To only have it spoken by one man. How often can one person say another's name? Aside from 'Good morning, Wendy,' 'Goodnight Wendy,' and an occasional, 'Afternoon, dear Wendy,' I fear I may forget my own name for the neglect of its repetition!"

Hook climbed into the bed, seating himself behind her so his body pressed very close against her own. He whispered in her ear, his husky breath so achingly close to her.

"My dear, _darling _Wendy, there will be many, many, other instances where I will repeat your name…over, and over, and over again."

He snaked his left hand between her legs and pressed his fingers against her clitoris. She moaned and arched into him. He pressed kisses to her neck and shoulders. It was suddenly and blazingly apparent to Wendy that he had neglected to redress her after bringing her back onto the ship. But the movements of his deft fingers into her moist warmth made all forgotten, all forgiven. She was ever so thankful that she was unclothed…one less layer to obstruct her proximity to the Captain, and one less outfit he would ruin in the rush of cutting it from her frame. Her gaze fell to a small bottle on the nightstand next to her. A small, familiar bottle was sitting atop the nightstand, out of place in the world of Neverland. Not one to argue, and in a great desire to receive its effects, Wendy grabbed the white bottle and took a large gulp. Captain Hook raised a brow, an act she could not appreciate as he was still behind her, his left hand quite busy between her legs. She gargled, in a quite unladylike manner, and spat the contents delicately out into a bucket on the floor next to the bed. She turned around to face Captain Hook, whose hand now rest atop her hip. He meant to question her on her actions, but she interrupted him.

"It was very good of you to have a bottle of Odol available, sir."

"And why is that, madam?"

A blush crept to her face and she smiled.

"I should like to give you a thimble."

"A thimble?"

She nodded.

"And the mouth rinse will aide you in that?"

"Aye, sir."

She kissed him, the minted alcohol on her breath giving the action a tingling burn that was most pleasurable.

"Captain…_James_…I need you."

Never one to deny a lady, the Captain acquiesced. He divested himself of his remaining clothes (which only totaled breeches and a sullied white shirt), and caressed his aching bride. She smiled at him, fully seeing his form for the first time in the morning light. He was scarred, randomly, all over his body. Most were well healed, but the lines bore too deeply into his flesh to ever allow them to be forgotten. His frame was muscular but lithe, strong enough in which to feel protected, but not so overtly muscled that a body ceased to appear human. His wound was of no consequence to Wendy; she had examined it in depth and found it to be another aspect of his perfection to her. And that he was…perfection to Wendy.

"You are beautiful, Captain."

He scoffed.

"Now is not the time to mock me, Miss Darling."

He attempted to get out of the bed, but was held fast by Wendy's grasp.

"Do not think I am making sport of you, James. You may see a marred body, but I see the body of a man who has fought many battles and lived to tell their tale…the body of a man who would do anything to protect all that he cares for. A body which brought me to the edges of ecstasy last night…and one that I wish would carry me over that threshold again now."

He groaned as she wrapped her small hand around his member. She'd witnessed him do it the night before when need had begged they reposition themselves. He had stroked it, it had obviously brought him pleasure. She sought to replicate that feeling in her beloved. Unsure of herself, she pumped her hand around the engorged organ. Another moan from Hook assured her that he was, indeed, enjoying her ministrations. She still caught his gaze, uncertainty bordering her irises.

"Am I…is this correct, sir? I've never…I…."

He thrust against her movements.

"You are perfect, my love."

She kissed him with abandon. He could not control his lust further, nor did he wish to. His hand and hook caught her wrists and pushed them above her head and he straddled her, effectively pinning her beneath him. She bit her lip and looked up at him, desire and trust echoing in her eyes.

"I love you."

The words were his undoing, as they always would be. He could not contain himself and he thrust into her, moaning at the slick wetness he found there. Gone was the concern for her comfort in his plundering of her virginity, fleeting though his concern had been. She accommodated him without issue now, and, if her writhings and moans beneath him were any indication, she would soon reach the peak of her rapture. His hook buried in the feathery depths of the mattress, for stability and his bride's safety, the Captain set on bringing her to the heights of pleasure. Her screams echoing through the cabin were more wonderful and beautiful to his ears than ten thousand operas. When he grunted his release into her, her name the only word on his lips, the fatigue of the past day finally began to set into his bones. He fell back onto the bed next to her and she laid her head on his chest, her heartbeat and pants falling in step with his own.

"Rest, my love," she said, her voice as soothing as the lapping of calm waves, "Rest and we shall face the day together."

He did just that, his arm wrapped around the form of his lover, his bride, his Wendy.

/

(Translation-excerpt from _Habanera, _from Bizet's _Carmen_)

"The bird you hoped to catch

beat its wings and flew away ...

love stays away, you wait and wait;

when least expected, there it is!

All around you, swift, swift,

it comes, goes, then it returns ...

you think you hold it fast, it flees

you think you're free, it holds you fast.

Oh, love! Love! Love! Love!"


	21. Chapter 21: Journeying

_JOURNEYING _

"Oh, the comfort - the inexpressible comfort of feeling _safe_ with a person - having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away."

(Dinah Craik, _A Life for a Life_, 1859)

/

The scents of minted bath oil and lye soap permeated the air. Our scene begins again with two lovers laughing as they splash in the warm water of a shared bath. One cannot doubt who these lovers are; one is youthful, enchantingly lovely, her auburn hair sopping wet and pushed back from a blushingly rosy complexion. Her eyes sparkle at her companion, in obvious enjoyment of some amusing thing that has just passed his lips. Her companion is man, a cocky smirk on a mustached face; battle scars pepper his muscular form intermittently from his torso to his arms. His right arm ends abruptly and is normally replaced by a metallic hook, but this endeavor is an exception, and the hook lay atop their joined bed, all but forgotten in their mirth. It cannot be doubted that this man is a pirate, or so decries the tattoos that rest upon his shoulder and chest. The woman is undoubtedly his plunder, and a willing plunder at that. But what's this? A peculiar winking comes from the corner of the pirate's mouth, all light and love and innocence. What purpose could such a spectre have on such a villain's mouth? The man has yet to notice its absence from his companion, but she noticed it immediately upon waking that day.

Wendy's hidden kiss was seated most primly at the corner of Captain Hook's mouth. She splashed him in their shared bath just to see it shiningly stare back at her. She wondered when he would realize that the kiss that was always his to plunder was finally his captive, just as surely as she was in body and soul. He drew her into a kiss, which she did not resist. Her arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his torso, effectively allowing Wendy to straddle her Captain in the soapy bath. He groaned at her proximity and, despite their rather numerous sexual acts of the past 24 hours, felt a familiar stirring in his loins. He felt the loss acutely when she snaked her way behind him and began to lather his broad back. He moaned at the contact and she had to bat his hand away as he attempted to move it to more ulterior locations.

"My dear sir, what is the point of bathing if one is simply to become dirty again?"

He chortled with laughter at that and allowed his captive to continue in washing his frame. Her small hands massaged his back, working out kinks that had been present for eternities. Oh! to be loved and fawned over; this was an entirely new feeling to James Hook, who could not recall a time when he was treated with such innocently free affection. They were cleaned. Squeakily so. They rinsed and were wrapped in oversized towels. Wendy stared at Hook at he dried himself, entranced by the sinewy muscles held under his marred skin. He involuntarily puffed up when he noted her appraisal of his form. But restraint was part and parcel to his requirements for the day. He groaned, a low quaking of his vocal chords that nearly went unnoticed to his companion, who stood before him nearly glowing in the speckled light that came in through the porthole window the lady had once used to escape. She blushed as his gaze raked across her frame, approvingly. He was surprised at her ability to retain some of her girlish innocence despite their wonderfully depraved actions of the previous hours. They had brought each other to the heights of passion over and over again and yet in the morning light she blushed at him like a virgin maid. He groaned again. Oh, this needed restraint would be the death of him. But he had decided, and she had excitedly agreed, that the pair of them and a small party of his pirate crew would travel into town for provisions and distraction. As his eyes continued to travel over her dressing form, he regretted any decision which led him away from having his captive bride nude and in some close proximity to a bed.

She aided him in resituating himself in his hook and harness with grace and loving touches dancing about his otherwise nude chest. He watched with a state of wonder at the ease of which his bride styled her drying hair so easily. A simple handful of pins and she was perfection, her hair half-up and set in its natural waviness. She noticed his appraisal of her and suppressed a snicker. Would the man never tire of staring at her? She hoped in the negative. She climbed into a small white pair of pantaloons, begrudgingly, as she would much rather desire to remain in bed with her husband and subject to his whims. But they needed to go out sometime, if only for the sunlight and novelty of it. Wendy's eyes beckoned him to her as she wrapped her torso in a striped corset. She smiled and motioned towards her back and the corset stays.

"Would you be so kind, James?"

It was all he could do to contain himself as he tied her into the corset, leaving the ties somewhat loosened. She raised an eyebrow at him in question. He shrugged.

"You are thin enough as it is, my beauty, and you would do well without suffocating yourself for the sake of fashion."

She laughed lightly, shaking her head and stepping into one of the numerous dresses that the Captain had provided for her. Forgotten were her own dresses brought from England; they had paled in comparison to the varying styles and beautiful fabrics of the Neverland gowns that Hook had seen fit to purchase. The dress she pulled on was somewhat simplistic: it was a dark cream with pink roses traveling down the skirts, forming a "V" from waist to its end. The bodice also had roses upon it, but was more actively covered; it left her shoulders and neck bare, the neckline of the gown forming a sweetheart style which tapered across to an off-the shoulder area of lace and embroidery. Hook handed her a parasol, which was also cream and was covered in similar roses, with a grin before taking her arm in his own. He was dressed in the outfit that he had haunted her in in her dreams. Red crimson and gold embroidery, this was definitively Hook. His coat was of the softest velvets, and he had donned an equally deep crimson shirt underneath it, its flared ends billowing out of his sleeves. His pants were simple and black, tucked into shining black leather boots with golden buckles. His sword was at his right side, sheathed, but ever-ready. His hook shone in the room, despite the limited light pouring into it. His hat, of matching crimson and gold, sat atop the drying black curls of his head. Ostrich feathers of dyed red and black decorated the top, two hanging limply from the back of his hat. Wendy grinned at the handsome Captain before her, thankful that this glorious spectacle of man was hers for enjoyment. She readily took his offered arm and the pair exited their cabin with both anticipation and regret.

/

/

Three other pirates had accompanied the Captain and Wendy to shore, though Smee had remained aboard the _Jolly Roger_, if only to ensure the other men were kept in check. The town was a wonder to Wendy; its streets bustling and active, the numerous shops ranging very greatly in provisions and specialties. Never had she seen such a wide variety of characters roaming the streets; a man with a small monkey played a jaunty tune as the latter danced and chattered, fire breathers and sword swallowers practiced their arts on the full streets, women walked by dressed in any number of differing fashions from ages past. One woman in particular caught Wendy's gaze as the Englishwoman noted the older lady's attention had been set decidedly upon her husband. The woman, who was flanked by a number of scantily clad maidens, gave Wendy a knowing smirk before retreating into what Wendy could only assume was a brothel. She decided not to think on it and instead pay attention to the Captain beside her, who she blushingly noted had been speaking.

"Sir, this is too much excitement for me! I fear I must beg your indulgence in repeating yourself."

He scowled.

"I am loathe to repeat myself, as well you know. How ever shall I punish you for your continued impertinence in ignoring me?"

She smiled, her eyes lighting up most becomingly.

"I await the punishment you see fit, husband."

He leered at her, making no attempt to disguise it otherwise.

"Minx."

A thought seemed to strike Hook and he begged a moment from Wendy, leaving her to speak with the three men who had accompanied them on their journey. The crew took an instant liking to their Captain's new bride. She talked of love and the sea and battles…she was lively and sweet, caring and bright. The youngest of the three pirates, a man who went by the name of Mac, was most entranced by her. He had been with Hook's crew almost as long as had Mr. Smee, and had begun as a cabin boy for the Captain. He was slow and dim-witted, but completed the simpler tasks that the Captain had given him. His position had not been needed once Wendy had joined the crew, and he enjoyed telling her of his new position in the kitchen. He peeled potatoes and one wondered how someone could harbor such excitement for such a mundane task. But Wendy listened to his joy with rapt attention, laughing along with him. The other two men were twins, both slightly older than Smee appeared to be, and had developed the monikers of Romy and Remy. They were delighted to learn that Wendy was a storyteller and begged her to tell the crew a tale or two when they returned to the ship. She blushingly agreed and the three men were most excited indeed with this prospect. When Hook sauntered back to their group not long after leaving, he was entranced with the way in which Wendy had wrapped his crew so easily around her fingers. He smiled at her and offered her his arm, which she happily took. She curtsied to the crew who gazed at her in awe.

They parted from their group, the Captain giving orders to his men to pick up certain provisions and attempt to avoid causing a ruckus. No sense in having to attune Wendy to that particular aspect of piracy right away…she had many years in her eternal life of pirating to become accustomed to that. Hook placed his left hand at the small of her back, leading her toward a busy area of shops ahead of them.

"Hungry, mon oiseau?"

She nodded.

"Vastly so."

"And what would whet your appetite?"

A blush crept up to her face, but she retained his gaze.

"What ever is your desire, James."

At the raised eyebrows of some of the denizens of the market, he cleared his throat.

"Perhaps it would be best to address me more formally in public, my dear," he said, his mouth close to her ear so that she could feel his hot breath begging entrance into her soul.

"Of course, Captain," she said with a suppressed grin.

He led her into a bake shop, being obviously drawn in by his attentions to a very becoming cherry pie in the window. He had licked his lips when he caught sight of it, an action at which Wendy had smiled.

"I do have a…fondness for all things sweet, my pet."

"As I am well aware."

The pair sat down and were served with much wariness by the wait staff. Wendy, assuming it was only for his reputation as a blaggard pirate Captain, thought nothing of it and happily accepted her meal in silence. Hook and Wendy ate a clam chowder of sorts out of warm bread bowls. She moaned when the lemony undertones of the soup caressed her palate.

"Jam…Captain, this is wonderful!"

He smiled.

"Indeed it is, my beauty. I had hoped you would enjoy it."

They ate in a comfortable silence until their soup was gone and the majority of their bread bowls were also ingested. Wendy blotted her mouth with her napkin before standing.

"Would you excuse me a moment, sir? I need to powder my nose."

He nodded and she ran off. Should he not have been interrupted, he would have watched her as she made her way up to the counter, spoke a few quiet words to the attendant there, and then made her way to the powder room to freshen herself. But he was interrupted, unfortunately so. A voice from his past spoke to him and drew him out of his mind's obsession over his new bride.

"What in the world are you doing with a girl like _that_, my dear, dear Captain?"

He sighed and turned to face the voice.

"Annabeth. I had expected you to have crawled under some undeserving rock and perished beneath it. How lucky for the rock to avoid your presence, and how unlucky for myself to be faced with it."

She smiled, a broad, knowing smile that comes to women of her profession so easily. Her grey hair had been dyed a dark black, though some strands still shone through. She was draped in a tight-fitting green dress, which showed off more of her full bosom than was acceptable, even in Neverland's lax standards. She was the self-same woman who had smiled so knowingly at Wendy when the pair walked through the town's streets. Her eyes raked over Hook's form, appreciating him very much so.

"You look well, James. I can't think that the one behind it is that little simpering chit. You were not one for the innocents as I recall."

She leaned in close to him, her hoarse voice accosting his ear.

"And I recall oh _so _well your lusts, James."

When Annabeth suddenly found herself held against the wall with Hook's good hand wrapped around her neck, her eyes bore into his own. If she was surprised in his actions, her dull eyes did not reflect so.

"I do not recall your passions being so…violent, Captain," she ground out.

He sneered at her and dropped her to the floor, not caring for the sullied feeling his hand began to feel at the mere touch of his former mistress.

"It is because I harbor no passion for your likes, woman. I am here with my bride. You would do well to leave us be. I am wary of slaughtering a woman, but for you I may make an exception."

Annabeth scoffed.

"_Bride_? She," she said with as much indignity as she could muster, "that little simpering fool is your bride?"

She laughed without mirth.

"Oh, Hook, that is too rich for words! Does she know of your lusts yet? Perhaps I should regale her of your desires…perhaps I should bring in the sullied maidens in my employ now who have been so damaged by your denied affections."

"I will gut you alive if you do, madam."

"You _love _her," she realized, her eyes growing wide. "My god, James, when did you become so weak?"

He ignored her. She pouted, an action which used to arise some reaction in Hook. When he continued to stare at her blankly, she sighed.

"That is a risk that may be worth the consequence, if only to destroy you."

She stalked out of the bake shop with nary a glance back to the Captain. He groaned and rolled his eyes. Good that Wendy was at least not present for that little spectacle. The rest of the crowd in the restaurant turned their attentions back to their own meals, the Captain quickly righting himself in his seat and straightening his jacket. He breathed a shuddering breath to calm his nerves. It would do no good for Wendy to see him flustered. He hoped rather than expected that Annabeth would heed his words and leave his bride alone…it would be best to tell her of his former exploits, at least in part, to dull the blow if the harlot ever decided to make good on her threats. But when Wendy's smiling face came toward him, refreshed and excited, he could not bear to dampen her spirits. Another time. Another time he would discuss with her his past, a brief history of it, anyway, and soften the blow should the damned spectre of his past rear her dyed head. Wendy sat back at her seat, her joyful eyes flickering with mirth. He raised a brow at her, barely able to contain his own smile in reaction to hers.

"What are you on about now, darling Wendy?"

When the Captain's desired cherry pie made its way to their table, a result of Wendy's secreted request, he smiled and took her right hand in his left, raised it to his mouth, and pressed a soft kiss on her palm. He could not lose her. Especially not for lack of trust for past actions he never deigned to repeat.

/

The rest of the afternoon was spent pleasantly, the Captain indulging every desire Wendy had. Every item she gazed at for more than a few moments was quickly purchased and wrapped for her pleasure. Hook had ordered dozens of new dresses made for her after he prodded her into being properly fitted in a dress shop. Mac followed behind the pair, having completed his allocated tasks for the Captain, and carried Wendy's purchases with a grin. He was ever so pleased with his Captain's new bride, even more so because the ladies who had frequented Hook's bed in the past had been unrepentantly cruel to his cabin boy. But Wendy was a lady, a _real _lady. And Mac would defend her honor should Hook not be around to do so. In his simple mind, he imagined the heralds and cheers he would receive from his beloved Captain and his bride if he should have to save her from some horrible fate. He pictured himself a hero; little did he know how correct he would be.

As the Captain, his bride, and a small portion of his crew gathered their purchases and climbed into the small vessel which would carry them back to the _Jolly Roger_, they neglected to note that they were being watched. The voyeur in question ran silently through the wooded area near the shoreline, her movements as graceful as a gazelle. She slowed once to stare behind her, unblinkingly, at the boat retreating from the shore. The Wendy girl was back. And she was Hook's willing companion. How the proud girl had fallen, but easily so…any female could agree that the Captain was charming and handsome, at least until one was at the business end of his hook. Or rather, until one was tied up and threatened with drowning in an effort to rid the world of Peter Pan.

The woman ran further into the woods, her lithe form enhanced by the scattered light of the forest. She stopped to rest for a few moments, out of breath. She stood and looked around her. She was tall, brown-skinned, and achingly beautiful. Her black eyes shone with a savage intelligence gleaned from the need to kill for sustenance and safety from an early age. Her hair was long and black, tied back in two braids that framed her nearly nude body. Her breasts were uncovered, her tawny nipples raised and hard from the exertion. A small tanned skin loin cloth covered her lower half, just barely. Though she was nearly nude, she was not unadorned. Both sides of her body were tattooed heavily, one bore the image of a cranberry tree in full bloom, a sparrow perched atop it; this image reached around to the edge of her breast and the limbs of the tree arched up her left shoulder. On her right side lay a bright array of tiger lilies which seemed to reach up to caress the woman's breast. A long white feather headdress, which had once been her father's rested on her head. Former princess, now Chieftess Tiger Lily took a shuddering breath before again running through the forests and towards her tribe's encampment. She would have much to discuss with them; she could not in good conscience attack the _Jolly Roger _now, for fear of any harm coming to an innocent. An innocent who was so obviously glowing with her own future that it was a wonder she did not set alight from the joyous illumination.


	22. Chapter 22: A Pirate's Bedtime Tale

_A PIRATE'S BEDTIME TALE_

"Life itself is the most wonderful fairytale of all."

(Hans Christian Andersen)

/

At this point, I fear we must backtrack. But I beg your indulgence in keeping the Captain's secret; we do not wish Wendy's surprise to be sullied. The Captain had parted from their little band on the island, his heart begging him to do so. His mind, normally so bogged down and difficult to traverse with thoughts of revenge and Pan, was suddenly light. Wendy had freed him. She had deserved a life worth living, for that action at least. But he would never let her go, and the fear of something as mundane as aging or death taking her from him shook Hook to his very core. No, no he would not consign Wendy to the fate of aging or death, nor would he consign himself to that fate. Neverland may have been fraught with dangers aplenty and one boyish headache in particular, but Hook found himself contented here, provided Wendy was at his side, to grow no older and live into eternity's eternity.

The Captain had parted from the group on the island and his feet carried him to a darkened alley and a particular shop in which he had not stepped foot in years. "_Jewelers" _it simply read. Much was to be said for its simplistic sign, for when Hook crossed the threshold, he was greeted with any number of achingly beautiful works of golden artistry. But his was a simple mission and time was running short; though he trusted the crew members who had accompanied him on the venture, he doubted their abilities to keep her safe from the dangers of the town. One such danger had smiled at him, his peripheral vision catching a glimpse of her aging and vile figure as they had walked through the dusty streets. _Annabeth_. The very name caused a hitch in his thoughts.

He and the harlot had a long history, their last meeting came soon after he had escaped from the belly of the crocodile. He had been yearning for human contact, a touch, a kiss, something to remind him that yes, he was indeed alive. But, although he was used to her caresses, they had felt…_wrong _somehow. His body had denied him any pleasure sought from her body and he had sent her away in a fury of screams and thrown books. He hadn't understood it at the time; he had always been virile and adored the feeling of lust culminated. But the damned green eyes of the girl with whom he had become obsessed brought him to an impasse, and one he was loathe to cross, if only for fear of making himself a mockery of impotence. Annabeth had been his mistress of sorts intermittently through the past twenty-odd years, he had hired her for his pleasure after he had tired of the strings attached to his dalliances with other easy women whose professions were not of the oldest sort, but now where he had previously found a lust for her, he found only disdain and disgust. She was nothing compared to the innocent beauty with whom he now shared a cabin and an eternity.

He shook Annabeth's memory from his mind. No use dwelling on previous mistakes; he hoped rather than expected her to retreat into the hole which she had carved for herself. A large, sparkling white diamond caught the Captain's gaze. He grinned. This was it. His gift for Wendy, and a gift which suited her quite well indeed. The large diamond, and hundreds of tiny one flanking it, were set beautifully in palladium, the setting giving the distinct image of a flowering lotus. And the lotus, much like his captive bride, was all purity and light, an unstained soul surrounded by evils. He suppressed the dissatisfaction in his own mind when it chided him for being part of the evils with which his lotus was surrounded…he could not bring himself to regret his chosen profession or his previous misdeeds, for all were steps by which he found himself gloriously attached to his Wendy. His Wendy who deserved a proper indication of her wedded status. Two plain, matching bands of equally brilliant palladium shone in a case next to the lotus ring. The larger of the two fit him surprisingly well. He handed a large bag of coins over to the purveyor of the establishment, who boxed the lotus ring and the smaller band together. Hook wore his out and was surprised when Wendy's apprising gaze did not catch the glimmering of the metal in the sun. Thank the heavens for small favors.

/

We return to the ship, its rocking providing a calming creakiness to the night. The storyteller sits before the whole of the crew in the setting sun, perched atop a barrel of rum on the widest part of the ship's deck. They watch her in rapt attention, their Captain looking on with pride and barely contained lust. She smiled at them and spoke, her voice clear and lyrical in the cooling night.

"I shall give you all a choice; I shall tell two stories, one of joy and one of woe. Which shall be first?"

The men spoke as a whole, their voices clamoring to her ears. Fights broke out between pirates who disagreed. Clearly this was not the best course of action. Wendy clapped her hands together and shouted for silence.

"Gentlemen! Please, control yourselves!"

The men settled, grumbling amongst themselves. Hook watched on in mirth, not aiding his bride in her endeavor. He was surprised beyond belief that the woman continued to be looked to as a superior by his men. His crew had always shown nothing but disdain for his previous dalliances; but Wendy was different, in every sense of the word. Good that she was so idolized by his men. So long as none of them got the idea to attempt to claim her as their own, there would be no deaths on her behalf. The thought stirred his ever-present jealousy; he would watch her even more closely now. The object of his musings smiled at the settled crew and pointed to Mac, whose focus had been entirely on her throughout the griping and fights of the rest of the crew.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Mac, which story should you like to hear first?"

He thought for a moment and then smiled, his face void of any ulterior motives other that the distinct desire to hear a good story and the hope of bringing happiness to his Captain's love.

"The joyous one!"

Half of the men cheered, the other portion grumbled, quietly. Wendy nodded and sat down on the barrel of rum again, calming herself with a slowly released breath.

"Very well. I shall begin, then, with the story of the tongue-cut sparrow. Once, there was a kind old man and his wife, who was a cruel, greedy woman. The old man had a pet sparrow whom he loved as if it was his own son. Every day the sparrow sang to the man, its beautiful voice bringing light and joy into his heart. One day while the man was fishing, the old woman caught the sparrow pecking at her linen starch. In a great rage she grabbed the sparrow, sliced of its tongue, and let it free! When the old man came home, he wept at his wife's tale, aching for the joy that the poor sparrow had brought him and grievously ashamed of her cruel actions.

The old man left the home and wandered the hills, searching for his lost bird. One day, the sparrow flitted down to him and greeted him with a humble nod. He bade the old man to follow him to the sparrow's home, where he introduced him to his wife and chicks, and fed the old man delicious dishes of fruits and grains and seeds. When the man was full, he thanked the sparrow and his bride, begging their forgiveness for his own wife's cruelty. The sparrow forgave the old man readily and offered him a gift in return for his years of kindness. The old man was given a choice between two wicker baskets; he chose the lighter of the two as his body was old and feeble and he did not wish to take too much, his wife having taken so much of the sparrow with her cruelty. He bade the sparrow well and returned home, the little bird telling him to return whenever he wished to visit.

When the man's wife learned of his visit, she raged at him, but when the wicker basket was opened to reveal piles of gold coins and jewels, she lit up with greed and happiness. 'I shall go to beg a gift from the sparrow now,' she thought, and off she went. She found the bird at the base of the same hill her husband had found him and, when he led her to his home, demanded a gift. The sparrow gave her the same choice as he had given her husband: the heavy or the light wicker basket. Being unfathomably greedy, she chose the former and trudged it down the hill with much difficulty. She stopped in her trek halfway down the hill and, greedy as she was, could not wait to open the basket until she arrived home. But, instead of riches and jewels, hobgoblins escaped her basket and carried her to her just reward in the fiery depths of the Underworld.

The old man in his newly rich lonely life, adopted many orphan children, giving them the doting kindness that he had once bestowed upon the sparrow. He visited his old friend throughout the years, the sparrow always kindly providing wealth and good cheer to his old master. Years after his death, the villagers still spoke of the old man's actions and the joy he brought to the people, once the greediness of his wife was lifted from his house."

Wendy was silent for a moment before the men began to laugh and cheer at her tale.

"Serves the old witch right," one pirate commented.

"That it does, lad," agreed Mr. Smee, whose attentions had been so focused on Wendy's story.

A few minutes passed while the men discussed the story, each siding with either the old man or the sparrow. All in attendance agreed that the cruel old woman got what she had deserved. When the men had settled again, Wendy began her next tale.

"Alright, men, on to the story of woe. But realize that, although this tale is besotted with woe, it truly ends in glowing joy."

Mac waved his hands at her, begging for attention.

"What is it called?"

"The Little Match Girl."

Wendy smiled at the crew and began her story.

"It was the eve of the New Year. All was snow and ice and frozen skies. The streets were bustling with people, their joyous shouts floating across the iced air. Bundles of glistening packages were carried under bundled arms and the scent of cinnamon, roasted goose, and candle wax floated through the town. But all was not light and joy in the town. A spectre wandered the streets, her cold bare feet turning blue from the icy chill, her gaunt face reddened from the harsh winds. She held in her tiny white hands a bundle of matches, two more small bundles were carried in an apron around her waist. She begged with pleading eyes and soft words for her matches to be purchased, but none would acknowledge her; none had purchased a thing and her apron was empty, aside from the bundled matches.

She wandered the frozen streets as they cleared of people. She could not return home, for her father would beat her for failing to sell even a single matchstick. It was no matter, she thought as she sought shelter between two brick buildings, sitting on a frozen patch of dirt, for her home was nearly as cold and blustery as was the outdoors. She drew her knees up against her chest, huddling into herself to gain some semblance of warmth. She found none. Oh, how the cold made her fingers ache. If only she could find something to warm her numb little digits, she might be able to return to her post and sell a match or two to the few people who passed by on the road. She bit her chapped lip. She supposed she could spare a single match, if the result was the sale of a few more! She struck the match against the brick wall, it burned brilliantly; her eyes danced as the brick wall before her was transformed. She could see its interior, and the warmth from the smoking stove warmed her body throughout! The stove dimmed, the warmth faded, the match went out. The little match girl bit her lip again, trying to determine what to do next.

The second match struck against the wall, a fervent hand clutching it tightly. She was inside again and standing before an exquisitely laid out table! All manners of foods were laid out before her; the most desired of all, a roasted goose, seemed to dance before her eyes. It hopped off of the table, a knife and fork clutched in its dead little wings, and waddled over to her. It begged her to cut into it and savor the buttered meat it had to offer. A gust of wind blew a large clump of snow off of the roof and onto the little match girl, effectively extinguishing her match and the wondrous pictures it had created. Another match was lit, and in its glow was seen a glorious Christmas tree, its branches filled with candles and pictures, piles of presents stacked beneath it. It faded as quickly as the others had and the sparkling candles became stars in the sky. One star fell, its light arcing across the black night sky.

'Now someone is dying,' the little girl thought to herself, for her grandmother had told her that whenever a star fell, a soul was brought into God's glory. She ached for her grandmother's love; the old lady was the only person to ever care for the little match girl, and when she died, so too died the girl's hopes of any affection or care in the cold world.

She lit another match, the last in the bundle in her hand. That same, wonderful old woman stood before her, her arms beckoning to be run into. The little girl looked at her, smiling for a moment, then in terror.

'Oh, oh, no, dear grandmother, you shall vanish too when the match goes out, just as the stove and the goose and the Christmas tree!'

And as quickly as her numb fingers could move, the little match girl grabbed the remaining bundles of matches from her apron and struck them against the wall. They glowed brighter than daylight! Her grandmother drew her into her arms and suddenly they were flying! The little match girl was no longer cold or hungry, and knew only the warmth of her grandmother's love as they traveled into the heavens.

The New Year began in earnest the next morning. The townspeople stumbled upon a little frozen corpse, her hands wrapped around burnt matches. 'She tried to warm herself to stave off the coldness of death,' they thought. But none could know what beauties she had beheld in her last moments, or what glory she had gone into when her last breath left her cold little chest on the last night of the old year."

Wendy acknowledged that it was a new terror to see a crew of pirates weep. If she wasn't mistaken, even her dear Captain's eyes were dampened, though the sight may have been a trick of the dim light. The crew dispersed, passing Wendy, who patted their shaking backs as if they were all the dearest of dears. Captain Hook took her little hand in his own and led her to their shared cabin. He held her for an hour, neither speaking and his embrace nearly suffocating in its tightness.

/

/

Author's note:

The first of our storyteller's tales comes from the Japanese folktale "The Tongue-Cut Sparrow," the second from Hans Christian Andersen's "The Little Match Girl." The former is available online; the latter was written after my own rereading from Andersen's collected works. Both are not exact replicas of their sources, though stay very true to their originals, I've taken a few mild creative liberties with each of them. I hope they were enjoyable. I actually read "The Little Match Girl" last night to my husband and couldn't get through it without bawling...I then stumbled upon a Disney cartoon depicting the tale. If you haven't read/heard Andersen's version, the cartoon ends on a high note, not really explicitly stating that the little girl, indeed, dies. But still and all, it is worth a watch, especially since it is only six minutes or so in length and now you know the premise of the story, if you hadn't heard it already. I would urge all of you to seek it out, especially if you need a good cry.

Ever yours,

Rachel


	23. Chapter 23: Love Returned

_LOVE RETURNED_

"Love is passion, obsession, someone you can't live without. I say, fall head over heels. Find someone you can love like crazy and who will love you the same way back. How do you find him? Well, you forget your head, and you listen to your heart…the truth is, honey, there's no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love, well, you haven't lived a life at all. But you have to try, cause if you haven't tried, you haven't lived."

(_Meet Joe Black_)

/

They had made love in silence, neither wanting to break the spell under which they found themselves decidedly locked. Hook had stayed inside of her even after they had both reached their peaks of ecstasy over the course of many shuddering breaths. After some time, he rose, donning a silken robe and seating himself at the desk across from the bed. He had sat and stared at her for nearly a half an hour without speaking. It was mildly disconcerting. Wendy deigned to speak, but he interrupted her, choosing the same moment to finally bless the silent cabin with his baritone notes.

"I suppose we should discuss why exactly you ran from me, wife."

She covered herself in the mussed sheets and sat up to face him.

"As you wish, husband."

He cleared his throat, yet remained silent. She raised an arched brow.

"James?"

He scowled.

"I am determining how to best continue."

"Ah."

"Yes."

"Well, do not allow _me _to deter you from your thoughts, sir."

Though he growled, she ignored his temper flare and continued.

"You will ask, no doubt, why I chose to run instead of remaining locked away in this cabin. I read your ship's log."

"I know."

"Then you can have no doubts why, at that moment, I chose to flee."

"You are a fool."

She pursed her lips.

"And I am married to the king of the same sort."

He raged, his eyes flashing red in warning.

"You dare much, woman! Do not think for a moment that my affection for you will keep you safe from punishment at my hand or hook!"

She scoffed.

"Sir, you forget yourself."

He rolled his eyes.

"Should I then apologize? I would not wish for you to hurl yourself into the salty depths on my account again, you blasted wench. You are lucky to have escaped death at the murky hands of the mermaids who are so fond of trailing my ship."

"Would that I had met such a fate if you will never allow me to forget how narrowly I escaped it!"

"Insolent woman!"

"I merely respond in kind to your moods, _Captain_."

Hook held back his desires to both throttle and kiss Wendy senseless. Instead his hook found itself imbedded in the wooden wall of their cabin. She sighed. It was useless to fight him in such a state.

"I did not wish to cause you pain, sir. Initially after reading your harsh words, I thought that my absence would be a mere inconvenience in your plot to harm Peter."

"An _inconvenience_," he scoffed.

"Yes. From your words, what else could I assume?"

"You did not read far enough into the log."

"Sir?"

He sighed and sat again, his shoulders slumping forward slightly.

"You read only my initial railings against the feelings trapped within my soul. You've no idea how cruelly you've trapped me, my beauty. You are all I can think of…all I can _breathe_. You are becoming intrinsic to my very soul."

"I did not mean to cause you such inconvenience, Captain," she ground out.

Wendy attempted to stand while remaining covered in the bed sheet. Hook stopped her progression, his hand and hook pressing down on her shoulders, his eyes bearing down into her own.

"I did not mean it in that manner, as well you know."

She sighed. He continued.

"Until you enveloped my being, Wendy, I did not think a soul still resided in my body. I thought…I feared that I had become as soulless and evil as Pan believes me to be. And, if not for you, you dear infuriating woman, I fear his assumptions would have been quite true indeed. You…you've no idea how I burned when I discovered you missing."

"Larks will never sing when captive, James."

"What?"

"Larks. Their song is beautiful and full of the glories of life, but they are silent when caged."

"And you feel I have caged you?"

"You locked me away in your cabin and intended to use me only for your pleasure, did you not?"

Hook did his best to hold back the embarrassment threatening to bludgeon him into submission.

"I wished only to keep you safe."

"Do not lie, James. You are a terrible liar."

"Would it be so wrong for me to desire _one _damned thing to keep for myself? This island…this Neverland steals all that is good and pure and happy away from my grasp at every turn. And at every opposing turn it gives all happiness and joys to that damned Pan! I did not…I do not wish to share you, Wendy. You are mine. And mine you shall remain."

"Have I no say in the matter?"

His jaw clenched.

"If you require an answer, I was correct in locking you away."

"James, I implore you…do not turn my love for you into hatred."

"And could your affections be so easily swayed? Lords. How fickle is woman."

She screamed, a barely repressed shriek that rang in his ears.

"You bloody _infuriating _fool! I _love _you. I love all about you, but your idiotic jealousy is truly making me wish to rip my hair out of my skull!"

He made to exit, but the crash of glass against the door stopped him in his tracks. His bride, his sweet, loving Wendy had thrown a bottle of brandy, his _best _bottle of brandy, against the door. It shattered in drunken droplets and shards on the floor. He raged and stormed at her. She stared at him, still and wide-eyed as a frightened doe. In a flash of flesh and metal, she was thrown over his shoulder and back onto the bed. She had not fully grasped how the feral look in her Captain's eyes could bring her down into a shaking, sputtering mess. He shed his robe and ripped from her the sheet that she had had clutched against her still nude form. With his hook he pressed her legs apart, the thrill of danger and lust abounding in their reflected gazes. He climbed atop her, his eyes boring into her own. Her lips parted, he inhaled her sweet breath, he thrust into her moist passage. Her fingernails raked across his back, thin rivulets of blood trailing behind her. He groaned. They continued thusly for some time until, with all of her might, she flipped on top of him. He watched her in awe as she rode him; he cried out in the throes of passion, his hook nicking the flesh above her left hip and drawing a small pool of blood. She ground against him and threw back her head in orgasmic bliss. They panted as their hearts slowed from the exertion.

Embarrassed at the marks she had given Hook, Wendy failed to notice the small gash at her hip. Likewise, her Captain's own sense of his bloodied back was ignored in lieu of the hatred that boiled in his heart toward his own inattention which resulted in the marring of his wife's previously unscathed flesh. She rose from the bed and brought a small basin of water and a cloth towards him. He hung his head in shame, reaching for his thrown off robe.

"I…I…forgive me, Wendy."

She looked at him, puzzled.

"Forgive you, sir? It was my unabated passion which harmed you, I should apologize."

"Madam?"

She motioned to the bloodied bed sheets.

"Your back. I fear my grip tore into you…I shall clean the sheets."

He laughed. She raised a brow.

"James? Why do you laugh so?"

He pointed at her hip with his hook.

"I fear we are both at fault, wife."

She blushed when she noticed the tiny bleeding wound.

"I did not even notice."

"Nor did I notice my back."

"A fine pair we are."

A glimmer of silver on her husband's hand caught her eye.

"James? What is that?"

He looked at her and then at his ring.

"Oh, this? Nothing. A trifle."

A scowl marred her pretty face.

"Let me see."

He shook his head.

"No."

"No?"

"At least your hearing is not affected."

"James," she said, her voice cold and demanding.

He lay back on the bloodied sheets, drawing a blanket over himself. He pretended to yawn.

"Enough for tonight, Wendy. I am utterly exhausted."

She jumped him. He hadn't expected that. Hook was thankful that his instinct did not perceive her as a threat and his reactions were dulled in his post-orgasmic haze; Wendy avoided being impaled on his hook. Her hands came down around him, pressing the blanket tightly onto the bed. He couldn't move. Oh, this was bloody brilliant. She glared at him.

"What. Is. On. Your. Hand. James," she said between clenched teeth, emphasizing each word.

He shrugged, barely able to contain his mirth.

"I haven't the fainest idea of what you mean, dearest."

"James."

"Wendy."

"Please," she begged, her assuming eyes causing his heart such ache it was near palpable.

He sighed; how she could sway him with a simpering gaze.

"It is a ring. Look in the top drawer of the desk. You will find its mate."

She went to the desk and drew out a small, velvet box. The Captain sat up halfway, propping his form up on his left arm as he watched her. A pleased smirk rested on his lips. She turned to him, a question in her eyes. He nodded.

"Open it."

She did so. Words could not begin to describe her elation at so simple a gesture. A wedding band. A true wedding band. The engagement ring adjoining it in the velvet box was gorgeous to be sure, but her moistening eyes focused only on the small silvery band that symbolized so much for her.

"_James_," she breathed.

"I do hope it fits. I do not relish reliving this argument if I have to go buy you another."

She threw a pillow at him before slipping the rings onto her left ring finger.

/

Wendy smiled at her husband. Smee had just left them, carrying out the tray upon which he had brought them much needed sustenance. It was still the predawn hours, the birds on the shore still abed in their nests. She could not rest, so focused was she on the loving gesture of the man who lay beside her.

"I've nothing to give you."

"What?"

"In exchange for the ring. You already purchased one for yourself."

"And how were you to purchase one for me? You've plundered no ships yet."

She frowned.

"I…I did not think…."

He berated himself mentally for his unkind words.

"Forgive me, wife. I meant no harm by it. I only mean to say that you needn't think of giving me anything when you have already given me so much."

A sigh escaped her rosy lips.

"Sexual favors are not payment enough."

He chortled with laughter.

"Although that is wonderful idea, darling Wendy, I meant your heart. But, if you would wish to repay me for the rings in that manner, by all means, feel free to do so."

She playfully smacked his arm.

"You are incorrigible."

"I am a pirate."

"As am I."

He scoffed.

"I mention your lack of plundering as evidence that no, you are not a pirate. Can you even recall how to brandish a sword? Or a pistol?"

Her blush was answer enough. He sighed.

"Very well, my pirate bride, we shall begin your instruction in the morning."

She beamed.

"Truly?"

He nodded.

"I can't have you fumbling about on decks without any idea of how to defend yourself should someone attack now can I? No, it won't do at all to have you cowering in the corners while I fight for your virtue. It gets tiring."

"I weep for your pains, sir."

"As well you should. Never mind. You shall begin in the morning. Red-Handed Jill shall not be forgotten."

They fell into a companionable silence before sleep overtook them once more.


	24. Chapter 24: Of Skills Old and New

_OF SKILLS OLD AND NEW_

"It is only when we are very happy, that we can bear to gaze merrily upon the vast and limitless expanse of water, rolling on and on with such persistent, irritating monotony, to the accompaniment of our thoughts, whether grave or gay. When they are gay, the waves echo their gaiety; but when they are sad, then every breaker, as it rolls, seems to bring additional sadness, and to speak to us of hopelessness and of the pettiness of all our joys."

(Baroness E. Orczy, _The Scarlet Pimpernel_)

Hook kicked Wendy's left leg out from under her. He sighed and thrust his sword down in from of himself with a frustrated sigh.

"You will continue to fall until you listen to me."

She scowled, fire and brimstone bubbling beneath her corneas.

"If you would cease kicking me, I would not fall so often!"

"If you were properly balanced _as I have instructed countless times_, I wouldn't be able to cause you to tumble!"

"Fiend!"

"Imbecile!"

"Villain!"

"Little girl!"

"Old man!"

"Foolish dreamer"

"Cruel tyrant!"

"Wanton hussy!"

With a growl, Wendy stood again, her form much better, and raised her sword to Hook. She glared at the Captain, nostrils flaring. She attacked, using every skill she could recall from her training many years previous in Neverland and her nightly imaginings of swordplay. Hook deflected the blows effortlessly at first, though the task became increasingly difficult as she pushed him backwards, the fire in her eyes smoldering and her will clearly enraged. He laughed, out of breath when his back hit the railing of the ship.

"Very good, but you are forgetting one thing, my love."

She knocked his sword out of his left hand. It fell into the sea below with a definitive splash. Wendy cocked a wickedly arching eyebrow at her Captain, her expression haughty and triumphant at having bested the swordsman.

"And what, pray tell, am I forgetting, Captain?"

With a well-placed jump to the board on which she stood, Captain Hook caused Wendy's footing to waver. The board on which she had been standing, and upon which she now noticed her left foot falling through, was rotted in portions. The jarring motion caused by Hook's jump had caused her current predicament. He grinned at her, his white teeth gleaming in the sunlight.

"You've forgotten your surroundings."

The tip of his hook pressed against her neck, painfully sharp yet not puncturing the skin.

"And you've forgotten the assets of your opponent. Though you ridded me of my sword, you forget I am _always_ armed, as many others will be. Pan never fights with less than a sword and a dagger, the Indians with arrows, daggers, and poison-tipped needles. You're a fool if you think ridding one weapon ensures a victory."

He strolled away from her prone form, but not before slapping her rear with a most loud smacking of his sole hand. He laughingly called over his shoulder to her.

"Perhaps you shall be a little more schooled in the basics after lunch."

He motioned for Smee to join her before walking to the dining area to eat with the crew. It would do well to reassure his men that they would not be forgotten because of her presence, despite how dearly they all loved her. Hook would never get used to the idea of being comfortable with other men idolizing his wife. But, so long as it meant they would keep their blasted hands off of her, it was for the best.

Wendy glared at her prone foot before plopping down onto the ship's deck. She sighed and stared ahead of her until Smee squatted next to her with a loud exhale.

"Pardon me, Miss. Don't rightly mean to be a bother, but the Cap'n wants me to help you go over the basics as it were, and…if you don't mind my sayin', we'd do a little better at it if'n your foot wasn't situated so."

"It is _his _infernal fault that I'm stuck like this! The blasted, foul wretch of a man," she seethed, hoping that her words reached the Captain's retreating form.

"Now, now, Miss Wendy," Smee soothed, "Don't you be frettin' the Cap'n overly so. He's been a bit overtaxed as it were lately."

"And why, pray tell, should he be so taxed, Mister Smee? He hasn't a care in the world now that his prisoner is returned and Peter hasn't stirred up a ruckus yet."

Smee looked down at her, his black eyes sparkling in mirth.

"Cap'n doesn't know how to behave when he's in love, Miss Wendy. Hasn't had much practice with the emotion, giving or receiving, mind you. Tis a hard skill to learn so late in life, I'd wager."

She groaned.

"So he is allowed to treat me no better than a cabin boy, kicking my legs out from under me during my training and leaving me with my bloody leg halfway down the bloody ship just because no one ever loved him? Ha! Fine joke that is!"

Mr. Smee shook his head.

"No, Miss. That is just his way of teaching. You aren't likely to forget to keep your weight balanced now, are you?"

She scowled but acquiesced.

"No…no I suppose not. But he still…."

"Miss Wendy. He's hard on you because he wants to keep you safe. If you can't see that, you're as bull-headed as the Cap'n!"

He smiled so pleasantly and sweetly after speaking that Wendy's anger retracted. With a soft smile, she looked at him. Really looked at him. He was portly and red-faced, his cheeks ruddy from the extended energy of speaking while squatting, it seemed. His eyes were beady, but kind, his hair thinning and grey. He wore round spectacles that Wendy suspected were for the sole purpose of reading maps; why he would continue to wear them at every instance was unanswered. Perhaps, Wendy thought with a secret laugh, he merely kept them on so as to ensure himself that he would not lose them. Sweet old Smee. He would never change; he was a grandfatherly sort when she was a child and he was a grandfatherly sort now, trying to protect the Captain he saw as family. Would she not defend her family so fiercely? She paused for a moment. No. No she wouldn't, not her family in England. Captain Hook's smiling visage floated in her mind's eye. She would defend him to her own death, despite how infuriating he could be. She sighed and allowed Mr. Smee to help her out of the ship and back into her training form. Yes, she realized. Hook was her family now, was her world. And if she was ever to fight to protect that family, she'd better get a firmer grip on the basics of combat.

/

/

Hook returned to the ship's deck stomach full of boiled meat and ale. Disgusting though the meal may have been, it was edible and sated the hunger he had dredged up while training and fornicating with his bride over the past few hours. He smiled, a cocky erudite grin that reached the tips of his trimmed mustache, as he watched Wendy and Mr. Smee continue her training. The hour had been sufficient enough for the woman to gain a better hold on her stance and she held her weapon with more assurance than she had previously. She parried and thrust against Smee's advances, deftly deflecting his blows and getting in a few good strikes of her own. Hook's chest puffed up slightly, his own pride growing with his pride in her. Yes, she was something to behold; beautiful, intelligent, and soon, deadly. But that would all come later. He was sick of her training, sick of not having her writhing beneath him. He cleared his throat as he approached the pair, his smile retreating its broadness for a moment and remaining as a mere smirk upon his full lips.

"Very good, my poppet, you're progressing quite well I see. Smee, thank you, you are relieved for the moment."

"Yessir," Smee said, bowing slightly to Wendy before scuttling off to tend to some frivolous task about the decks.

A glance over Wendy's sweaty form, her panting breaths causing her damp chest to rise and fall with intoxicating quickness was too much for Hook. He suppressed a groan when her tongue snaked out of her pink mouth to lick her lips. He unsheathed his replaced practice sword from his hip and raised it to his face before taking a fighting stance before her.

"Shall we test your progress, my love?"

Wendy followed suit, raising her practice sword to her face before striking it down with a flourish and standing before Hook in proper form.

"En guard, Captain."

"Always, my beauty, always."

They fought, each strike met equally. The Captain did not hold back, save for not allowing himself to kill or maim his beloved, a task difficult to do with a tipped blade, though not impossible. So do did Wendy fight him with all of her might, holding back only when she felt his safety was truly in jeopardy. With a growl he maneuvered her back across the ship until she was pressed against the door to their cabin. He knocked her sword away easily, ready for the battle to be over. He leaned against the door, his arm resting just above her head.

"Game and match, dearest. I fear you are at my mercy."

She smiled, a serene glowing smile that only broadened when she turned the latch of the door and pressed back against it, effectively opening it and sending Hook sprawling into the room and onto the floor with a clamor of clanking metal and muscular weight on wooden floorboards. She picked up his sword from the ground and pressed it lightly against his neck.

"You've forgotten your surroundings, Sir. How ever shall we punish you?"

Her legs were swept out from under her and she fell to the ground in a groaning heap. Hook strode quickly to the door and slammed it shut, fire blazing in his eyes. Wendy gazed up at him until she was hoisted over his broad shoulders and tossed onto the bed. His hook tore through the fabric of her dress. She sighed inwardly, she'd really liked this dress. Within moments he was inside of her, thrusting and roaming her body with his hand, his hook imbedded in the downy bed beneath her. They crested together in a fit of screams and moans.

/

Hours had passed, Wendy had eaten sparingly from a late lunch tray brought in by a blushing Mr. Smee. She and the Captain had since bathed languidly together before coupling again in a soapy deluge of passion. He now lay halfway atop her, his head resting on her breast, listening to her heartbeat.

"I would like a story, Wendy. A story for only you and I to hear."

"I've no such story, sir…none that haven't been told already by greater weavers than I."

He drew her closer to himself.

"I wish to hear a story of your own creation."

She bit her lip.

"May I…may I have time to write it, James? I don't wish to make one up as I go along…."

He nodded.

"Of course. By tomorrow night, though, I expect my story."

She smiled.

"And you shall have it."

He sat up and looked over her form, admiring the planes and curves of her body.

"Well, my beauty, shall we begin training you on the pistol?"

/

/

Peter Pan paced, as best he could whilst flying, the length of his encampment, ignoring the pleas for attention from the Lost Boys and Tinkerbell. After a few long minutes in these pursuits, he floated down to a seated position, though still remained hovering in the air.

"Why would Wendy leave like that?"

"Doesn't she love us," Longshot asked.

"Of course she does! Maybe she just got bored and wandered off," Haystack offered.

"She's a dumb girl, bet she would just walk off without a care in the world," another Lost Boy shouted out.

Felicity clapped her hands and cooed.

"Wendy!"

A flourish of red and black hair rolled through the camp.

"Enough! All of you are so concerned with keeping the witch safe! She's a pirate! She's Hook's wife!"

Peter gasped, his form sinking down onto the ground, his happy thoughts forgotten.

"_What_?"

"Look at this," Rufio said, throwing down a letter which bore the signature of Chieftess Tiger Lily. "The Chieftess wouldn't lie. She says she saw them…_together _walking through town. And Hook bought her a pair of rings."

Haystack blanched.

"Rings?"

Peter glared at Rufio.

"What kind of rings?"

"Wedding rings, you idiots," Rufio seethed. "Don't you see? She can't be your mother. She's a pirate! She's our enemy! The wife of the cruelest foe ever to blacken Neverland! And you allowed her in our camp! They'll be back, mark my words, boys. They'll be back and will kill us all, all because _Peter _wanted a mommy so badly. Lost Boys don't need a mother! We're enough for ourselves, aren't we, boys?"

The camp cheered; Peter remained silent and terra-bound.


	25. Chapter 25: Of Grudges Learned

OF GRUDGES LEARNED

"Heaven hath no rage like love to hatred turned, nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned."

(William Congreve, _The Mourning Bride_)

Dear reader, we must now leave the company of our Captain and his Lady and travel, instead, to the sides of two other women of import in Neverland; one is beautiful and strong, the other wretched and condemned. The Captain had made enemies of one of these women long ago while the other's feelings had always bordered on that dangerous precipice where love and hate intermingle. The jungles are deep, the paths are treacherous. Shall we continue? Yes, but quietly, treading lightly so as not to arouse suspicion.

Chieftess Tiger Lily, she of the raven hair, she of the proud, strong lineage which lead her to rule over all her brethren, she of the wild beauty and deadly ability, had hated Captain James Hook with an impassioned fervor that made Peter Pan's feelings toward the pirate seem nearly loving. But from whence did this blackened hatred stem? It was true, that she had always disliked Hook, despised the dastardly actions of the villain from the moment she found herself bound in a cave, sodden, frightened, and gasping salted water into her lungs. But this encompassing rage-fuelled hatred was surely not the result of a foolish pirate's foiled attempt to use her as bait to trap Peter Pan. No. Many had attempted to use her for ill gain, be it revenge on Pan or for the land her father had controlled before he…. Her chocolate brown eyes folded into slits as she thought of her father's demise.

It had not been a fair fight. True, they had ambushed the pirate crew, in some cockeyed attempt to regain power over the seas that bordered their lands. And their ambush had caught the pirates off-guard, they'd been able to rid the decks of many of the less-skilled members of the crew before the alert was sounded. But then Hook had come out on deck, his stronger crewmen with him, and the Indians had lost their ground. It was not a fair fight. The eternal pirate was still youthful and healthy and her father…her poor aged father was nearly in the eighth decade of his life and his eyes had begun to whiten in the center like the churning depths of the waterfall. He had no business in this battle with the accursed pirates, but what was she to do? She was a princess, still very young, his only daughter; she could not tell her father, her chief, to stay out of the battle. He would not have listened even had she asked him not to fight. And when Hook stood above the fallen chief, his sword still dripping with royal blood, his horrible metallic hook glistening on his wrist and poised to strike a fatal blow, her pride crumbled. She begged for her father's life, and oh _how _she begged. But he hadn't listened to the proud princess as she wailed on his decks. The fiend had laughed, had mocked her outright before turning on his heel and retreating to his cabin, telling his remaining men to do what they would to the prisoners. Her father had died of his wounds on that damned deck while some of the more vile members of Hook's crew had stolen her guarded innocence from her. When they were done with her, she had been thrown into a damp cell in the hull of the ship. She had seen Hook once more that horrible day; had worried that his presence in her cell meant that she would be subjected to rape at the hand of the man who had killed her father. But he looked at her with such disdain, with such disgust she almost wished he had instead taken his pleasure from her. She had been released, the Captain telling his rotund boatswain to return the tainted princess to her home. Mr. Smee had allowed her to bring her father's body with them and she had carried her old father's body through the jungles and back to her village.

Tiger Lily entered her village; her taut form brilliant in the glowing moonlight. She hadn't seen anyone leave the _Jolly Roger_ since Hook and Wendy had returned to it. Why was Peter's former friend with Hook? How could she love such a villain? He had, no doubt, poisoned her mind, had tricked her into affection. The woman clearly adored the pirate. Tiger Lily couldn't fault her for her innocence and idiocy. The girl had always been entranced by the pirate and likely had no idea of the depths of his accursedness. A small, dark-haired girl ran up to greet the Chieftess, her pale skin so very different from Tiger Lily's.

"Mother!"

Tiger Lily welcomed the little girl into her arms, lifted her up with a smile. She loved her. Loved her more than she hated the men that attacked her, more than she hated even the blasted Captain Hook. It wasn't the child's fault that she was the result of a violent action. She was purity. She was light. She was Tiger Lily's hold on the mortal world. Had it not been for the girl, she doubted that she would have survived the year following her rape and her father's murder. The fact that Tiger Lily had no ability of knowing precisely who was her daughter's father was almost a blessing. There had been five pirates, all nameless, faceless horrors who had taken their lust out on the former princess. All had met the bitter end of her knife since their assault on her person. Good that they were dead. Though they still haunted her, kept her from finding a partner in her life, she was finally able to sleep through the nights without waking in terror. Her daughter, her wonderful, beautiful Willow, was all that she needed. That was, excepting her still-burning desire to have her revenge on Captain Hook.

/

/

The brothel smelt of stale beer and semen. Annabeth pushed her way through a teaming crowd of panting bodies to her bedroom. She slammed the door with a groan. The rotting wood splintered in areas, but remained attached to the door frame, thankfully. It would be hideous to continue on in her business without at least the small privacy that the door provided. Despite the poorly kept door, Annabeth's bedroom was wickedly inviting, a culmination of all of the sensual splendors that her sort offered for a price. Black sheets covered a large bed; they were clean and crisp, one of the few luxuries the harlot allowed herself. The cost did not matter. She had piles upon piles of sheets, all black, and all were laundered weekly. The rest of the room was sparsely decorated, the only other pieces of furniture in the room being a large oak dresser and a full-length mirror which had a crack in the utmost right corner. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Strands of shimmering grey hair shone through the black dye that coated her head and her face held many more lines than it had when she had first laid eyes on Captain Hook. She sighed. She had been so entranced by the pirate; her young heart, which had been so battered and guarded until that point, had melted, slightly, at his charm and wile. He had paid well to be his exclusively for the few months in which he found himself intrigued by her feminine wiles. But he had tired of her, as so many men before him had as well. She had returned to servicing the various men of the town and hadn't heard from Hook in ages when he had called upon her again a few years previous. Her heart had swelled at the thought; could he truly want her again? Could her affection for him be returned at long last? No. Of course not. What a fool she was to believe that anyone could love her. He had wanted a diversion to allow him a reprieve from his obsession with the girl whom she had witnessed him walking with earlier that day. A thick cough emanated from her chest; she lifted her handkerchief, _his _handkerchief from all those years ago, to her mouth. When she drew it back, it was soaked in clotted blood.

If it was the last thing she did, and if the bloodied handkerchief was any indication of her upcoming mortality it may well be the last thing she did, Annabeth would make Hook pay for breaking her heart and leaving her to contract the deadly disease which would soon bury her in an unmarked grave.


	26. Chapter 26: Tonight

_TONIGHT_

"We're gonna hand 'em a surprise

Tonight.

We're gonna cut 'em down to size

Tonight. We said,

"O.K., no rumpus, No tricks."

But just in case they jump us,

We're ready to mix

…

Today, the minutes seem like hours.

The hours go so slowly,

And still the sky is light.

Oh moon, grow bright,

And make this endless day endless night,

Tonight!"

(Sondheim and Bernstein; _Tonight_, _West Side Story_)

/

/

It was a plan; not a perfect plan, mind you, but a plan nonetheless. Annabeth smiled at her reflection in her cracked mirror: dolled up in her finest blood red gown, thick rouge on her cheeks and kohl-lined eyes, her hair impeccably styled in a cascading ringlets pulled toward the back of her head. Her dyed-black hair was accented with ribbons and bows and she looked for all accounts to be planning a much more elegant affair. As it was, her intent was deadly and her will sure. Tonight she would call upon some of the few denizens of Neverland who were kind to her sort without desiring to take their pleasures from her body. Yes, the mermaids of Neverland were often kind to the prostitutes who lived there; they saw their desires similar, the harlots profession and skill in killing men, though through disease and at a much slower rate than their finned compatriots, intriguing and wondrous. And the mermaids hated Hook with a passion as well; Annabeth's only concern now was to decide whether to leave Hook alive once his spoilt bride was killed, or to kill him along with the simpering little idiot. She smiled, though her dull eyes refused to alight.

/

/

It had been two weeks since Captain Hook and Wendy had traveled into town; two weeks since they had been conspired against by his former mistress, victim, and ever-present child enemy. There was an ill air on the horizon, but as they had yet to be attacked, Wendy felt at ease, excepting the increasing frequencies of nausea that had plagued her as of late. She decided it was likely related to the food and seasickness, though she'd never suffered from the malady before. It was a concern she neglected to share with her husband, who was more attuned to the feeling of growing action and danger in the air. Despite his preoccupation with an assumed coming danger and her nausea, they found themselves quite contented to be consumed by the love which had blossomed when the Captain had stolen her away from the dull life set before her in England. Their days were filled with each other. They dined, they danced, they made love. Wendy read to him, stories of love and loss, of adventure and intrigue, of paradises lost and regained, but she had yet to regale him with a story of her own concoction. She had paid dearly for her inability to do so, though her Captain's chosen reprimands only induced her to continue putting off telling him her own story. True, if he continued to punish her through his attentive ministrations to her body, she would never tell him his desired tale. For his part, Hook attempted to ignore the niggling suspicions in the back of his mind and focus, instead, on his beguiling wife. Despite the pleasures she offered, both physically and mentally, he found that his growing concern for their safety all-consuming.

The Captain and his Lady walked the decks, her arm tucked in his, her white little hand covering their joined appendages. As they passed the members of his crew, the pirates tipped their hats to her or bowed slightly. They had truly developed an admiration and love for the kind bride of their Captain; true, there were scallywags in their numbers, murderers, thieves, rapists, and villains. Yet somehow in Wendy they found themselves enamored and could not consider acting against her; she was kind and beautiful, caring and sweet…she was the embodiment of the mothers they had all but forgotten they had. And they would harm her no more than they could harm their own mothers. Wendy smiled at Hook as they came to the bow of the ship and halted their progression. A small bench had been procured at the Captain's request and placed here as his bride had taken to sitting at the front of the ship during the fine-weathered days. They sat on the pine bench, staring into the expanses of water that lay before them. Wendy was the first to speak, her voice melodic in the sea air.

"I think I would be content to stay forever like this."

"Madam?"

She smiled at him.

"In Neverland…with you…on this ship, or off of it. It doesn't matter. So long as I have you next to me, I shall be content."

He raised her hands to his lips and kissed her palms gently.

"You shall never be without me, my love, and if you are ever taken from me, I vow to move the heavens and earth to find you and bring you back to my side."

She sighed contentedly and leaned back against him, happy to allow him leave to hold her tired body against his own. She was fatigued; more tired than she had ever found herself before. She began to nod off in his embrace. He chuckled, a low reverberating sound that lulled her further into sleep. He lifted her into his arms with ease and retreated into their bedchamber. There they would rest until the evening, as they had become accustomed to doing over the past fortnight; he ignored the concern for her health, he was sure that it had more to do with her waning appetite. A sordid smile graced his lips; she was timid in her appetites in regards to food, but her _other _more interesting appetites were certainly not diminished in the slightest. Yes, he would retreat to their room. He would stay at the girl's side until the ends of forever and beyond.

/

/

The Lost Boys were in uproar. This was no abnormality; they were _always _in uproar, especially just prior to a battle. Their victims had no idea that they were about to be beset upon, and all the better. If they could gain the upper hand, they'd be able to thrash the blasted pirates within an inch of their lives. Rufio had taken over command of the screaming masses of boys; they were excited by his cruel intent and steady head. He planned his attacks whereas Peter…well, it was not in Peter's nature to plan anything. Peter, as it was, found himself quite at an impasse; he still felt a keen attachment to Wendy as he would to any of the Lost Boys who had passed through his ranks…but her betrayal was painful, sharply painful. He had lost his ability to fly. His happy thoughts, those gay, flitting images and memories that had once given him wings, were clouded, unrecalled, dark. His mind was stormy, his memories and thoughts painfully keeping him planted surely on the ground. He sighed as Rufio went over their plan of attack; they would steal onto the _Jolly Roger _tonight, would kill off as many pirates as they could, leaving Hook alone to fight Peter. Rufio was quick to assure the Lost Boys that, while he was the brains behind the attack, Pan was who Hook would really want, and the rest of them could do significant damage to the rest of the crew while the Captain was otherwise engaged. They would kidnap the Wendy-woman, would bring her back to their hideout. There they would put her on trial, the outcome of which was already well-known to Rufio. She'd be hung. And thus to all pirates, especially those who had the audacity to question him.

/

/

Tiger Lily had dressed in her traditional garb; a deerskin dress, sleeveless, fringed, and reaching just below mid-thigh in length, covered her frame. In mixed company the Chieftess was dressed thusly; when alone, running through the forest as the natural element of it she was, she was normally found in a state of undress, a choice which she found connected her to the soil and flora which flowed so powerfully through her veins. The Chieftess was aware of the attacks that would come on the _Jolly Roger _tonight at the hands of Peter Pan and his Lost Boys, headed by an impudent youth named Rufio. Where Tiger Lily had once found an affection for Peter Pan, she found no such feelings for the new boy who seemed to take over Peter's former position as head of the Lost Boys. Rufio was cunning and quick, but a danger. Tiger Lily could see his life folding out before him; it was a life of terror and deceit, of painful deaths and trickery. The finality of this young boy's life was still a question; Tiger Lily had consulted her tribe's shaman who counseled the young Chieftess that the future was bleak, though not set in stone as of yet. The concern was dire, though, and should he continue in his current path unchecked, he was like to ruin the whole of Neverland through his folly. Tiger Lily closed her eyes as the energized air passed over her body; she was loathe to consider what must be done. The shaman had revealed another truth to her which she balked against. In her heart, though, she knew what must be done. She must defend the bride of her hated enemy, even to her own death, if Neverland were to remain intact. She gazed at the sleeping form of her innocent, beautiful daughter. Yes, she would go against her heart's balking and defend Wendy, so long as it meant that her daughter was able to grow and live in peace.

/

/

Captain Hook slept soundly in their bed, a quiet snoring emanating from him. Wendy stifled a laugh. She sat at his desk, a folded piece of paper in her hand. She unfolded it and drew a quill pen from its place in the inkwell on the desk. She seemed lost in thought for a moment before beginning to write. She had been working on the Captain's desired story for a few days now; it was nearly complete and needed only the few polishing touches she planned on penning while her beloved slept so soundly. She would tell him her story tonight; she hoped rather than expected that he would like it. Though she doubted her abilities in creating a story to his liking, she knew that regardless of her success or failure, Hook would assert his delight in it with words, kisses, and exploring touches. She blushed at the thought; never could she have dreamed of being so blissfully happy from something so simple as the touch of a hand…or hook.


	27. Chapter 27: Fighting

_FIGHTING_

"Fight till the last gasp."  
>(William Shakespeare, Henry VI, Part I, VI, 1:2)<p>

/

Hook was dead. He was dead and nothing could bring him back.

Wendy screamed until her terrified voice was hoarse with agony and rage. She continued long after her voice was broken and her screams fell silently from dried lips. She was tied onto their marriage bed, unable to move to be by the side of her beloved as he took his last gasping breaths, nor able to close the lids over those whitening blue eyes which had so easily pierced her soul. Her tears could not fall on his chest in some mystical hope of her innocent love saving him at the last moment. No. He was dead and nothing could return him to her, she knew that instinctively, horribly. Captain Hook was splayed out before her on his desk, his cooling blood pouring out from the gash that ran his length from neck to groin. The awful black-haired woman who had smiled at her so knowingly in town twirled a knife in her manicured fingers, a cruel grin on her haggard face.

"I attest this is by far a better vengeance; I had thought of killing you first, but to see his horror knowing he could do naught to save you as he died helpless before you…."

The woman broke off with a moan and then turned her attentions back to Captain Hook's dead form. The room spun before Wendy. Her head flooded with confusion, her eyes fell to her swollen belly. Another silent scream failed to echo in the stagnant room. The woman laughed again.

"I'll cut the brat out of you before long; perhaps I'll raise it as my own! La, wouldn't that be droll? But no…I don't think I could let the child of Hook live no more than I could let his simpering bride survive the night."

She cackled with glee, and, so encompassed in her laughter, turned her back to Wendy and did not notice the dark form that snuck by the poor girl's side. Wendy, terrified, agonized, and frantic, failed to notice the visitor as well until a calm, feminine voice whispered in her ear.

"Be strong. Have faith. I shall restore to you what you think is irrevocably lost. It is not by a harlot's hand you will suffer your greatest loss."

Suddenly she was free, her belly flat again, the room black. She called out to Hook, to her unborn child, to the voice. A match was struck. There stood her Captain, her lover, her James, holding a swaddled infant. Before she could run to them, he shook his head sadly.

"Not now, my pet. We must wait, though it pains us."

The same dark figure who had whispered to her stepped out of the darkness and took the child. Wendy cried out. The figure held up a brown hand.

"You will regain her and lose her again and again," the figure said, the distinct feminine lilt to its voice betraying at least the sex of her tormentor. "She was never yours to keep. And Pan shall take her away forever."

Wendy shook, terrified again.

"No, no, he couldn't…can't you do anything? _Please_," she implored.

"Faith," the figure whispered, and was gone.

Wendy fell, weeping, and never reaching the floor. She fell for ages, screaming, her stolen voice slowly returning. Hook's voice echoed after her.

"Wendy? Wendy? WENDY!"

She was violently shaken awake, her scream echoing in their warm cabin. Her husband's hand and hook at her shoulders drew her back to reality, slowly. She was sopping with sweat, freezing cold. His piercing blue eyes searched her confused green, his hand moving to cup her face. He was clearly distraught.

"Wendy? Wendy, darling, what ever is the matter?"

She sighed and hugged him close to her, her hands grasping the body she thought stolen from her forever.

"A dream. A terrible dream, nothing more."

Hook's face paled.

"Wendy. Dreams, especially vivid ones, are not just for their own sake in Neverland. Wendy…in Neverland dreams really do have a tendency to come to fruition."

She turned terrified eyes to his, her hand instinctively clutching her belly.

"No. No it can't be. It was a dream. Brought about by indigestion, no doubt. No. I refuse to believe it."

He sighed.

"Refuse to believe it or not, wife, the fact remains: the most vivid dreams are more oft than not premonitions in Neverland. Tell me."

She shook her head.

"I do not wish to relive it."

"If you tell me, you daft cow, I can try to make sure you do not!"

She told him. Horrified. Weeping. And when it was over, his eyes welled with tears as well, though they did not dare fall upon his proud cheek.

"I shall kill them all, every single person in Neverland, before any harm comes to you."

A thought occurred to him. He was surprised she had not thought of it before. He was unable to express it as a hundred battle cries and clanging weapons sounded on the decks. He faltered for a moment, then, with cruel intent and deadly will, grabbed his pistol and sword, dressed himself, and strode to the door. His eyes burned red. He glared at his wife.

"Stay here."

He threw a pistol to her, which she caught with ease.

"If anyone enters through this door without knocking three times in quick succession, shoot them. I don't care if it is Smee. I don't care if it is me and my own stupidity caused me to forget to knock. Shoot."

She nodded. He turned the handle of the door. Tears streamed down her face.

"I love you, James."

"And I you, Wendy."

With that, he was gone, leaving Wendy alone, gripping a pistol, in their marriage bed. She drew his robe around herself, suddenly freezing. The echoes of battle raged outside the locked door off of which she dared not take her frightened eyes. A voice chided her in her addled mind._ Since when did Red Handed Jill cower in the shadows during a fight?_

/

Outside was chaos; the ship's deck was teeming with Lost Boys and pirates, battling fiercely. Already, a dozen were dead, yet their comrades continued to fight. Hook joined the fight, or attempted to. None of the Lost Boys would provide much pluck, save from fighting off his advances before running away to fight other pirates. Hook growled as he attempted to fight another boy, this one very young, very blonde, and pushing a toddler behind him. Hook rolled his eyes when he noticed that the boy carried a short sword in one hand and a Velveteen rabbit in the other.

_What goes on here?_

He scowled at the boy. He was young, even by Lost Boy standards. Despite the fighting going on about him, Hook retained some vestiges of the humanity that Wendy had always seen within him.

"Come with me."

The boy seemed unsure, but the girl behind him made his decision by running forward and hugging Hook's leg. The pirate Captain sighed. He hadn't time for this. He lifted the little girl into his arms. She squealed with delight. He stalked back to his cabin, the boy following close behind him. He knocked three times on the door before unlocking it and opening it a crack.

"Wendy?"

She didn't answer. Hook looked into the room and with great terror found it empty, the porthole window open. He howled in anger. He had been duped. He glared at the children, rage clouding his judgment for a moment. For a brief, passing instant, he considered hacking out the throats of the innocent babes before him. The little girl's voice broke him from his cruel intent.

"Wendy!"

Hook blinked the world back into its rightful place, where the only youth he considered slaughtering was Pan. He turned around. There stood Wendy, a knife poised to her throat, the devilish Annabeth holding the hilt and smiling so beatifically at him. He hustled the children into the room with a warning to stay put. His hand hovering above the holster of his sword, he walked out onto the decks to fight the blasted harlot and save his bride.

/  
>

The audience clamors for an answer. How did that damned Annabeth get a hold of Wendy? We must remember Wendy's state of mind just prior to the skirmish's beginning and forgive her for her foolishness. She had been told to stay put. After being so instructed Wendy did the most logical thing a woman in her position could do when being defended by one of the most expert swordsmen in two worlds. She completely ignored instruction. Wholeheartedly and without repentance. She pulled a pair of the Captain's black leggings on as well as a loose-fitting undershirt he had worn the day before. It still smelt of him. It gave her courage. Putting on her most sensible boots (and silently thanking her husband for his demand she have at least _one _sensible pair), she fastened a belt to her waist and grabbed one of Hook's numerous swords before climbing very easily out of the porthole window, an action which was swiftly becoming routine for her. She shimmied up the side of the ship with ease.

While Hook was busy attempting to fight various Lost Boys and then shuffling Haystack and Felicity into their cabin, his wife was fighting a battle of her own. Rufio greeted her on the decks, his tufts of red hair glaring in warning in the moonlight.

"Ah, our dear _mother_ Wendy. How cruel of you to leave your children to fend for ourselves! How ever will we get on without you?"

She scowled.

"Rufio! What is the meaning of this?"

"Pirate."

She shrugged.

"As you see. But we've caused you no pain as of late, the Captain has been very much concerned in other pursuits and has no time to play games with little boys of no consequence."

Rufio raged, striking at her with unmastered blows. Wendy, thankful to her husband for reinforcing the knowledge of the basics in her mind, held her own against the Lost Boy and cornered him. His sword fell over the ship's edge and splashed in the water. So focused was she on keeping the boy at bay, Wendy did not hear the splashing and low songs from beneath the ship, nor the heeled steps coming from behind her. She moved to speak to the boy, but found herself grabbed from behind, a knife pressed to her throat. Rufio grinned.

"Mother. Wonderful to see you again."

"Rufio," Annabeth said, her voice musical and not at all indicating the deadly peril in which she held our heroine. "It has been too long, child."

He shrugged.

"Time means nothing to me. I'm a Lost Boy. I'll soon be the Pan."

Annabeth smiled.

"How wonderful. And what has become of the former?"

"He's forgotten how to fly! He sits at the bow of the ship waiting to fight Hook. But his heart is not in it. He has no happy thoughts. The pirate will kill him and then I will be the leader."

"A position you well deserve, my son."

Wendy attempted to move out of the harlot's grasp, but Annabeth held her fast.

"I wouldn't, you sniveling little twit. I'll slice your neck before Hook's eyes are on you if it pleases me. Now we are going to walk; if you value that little brat I'm sure you've got brewing in your stomach, you'll comply. Perhaps I'll leave you alive long enough to bare it."

Annabeth pushed their way through the crowds of fighting pirates and Lost Boys with relative ease, and stood poised in front of the Captain's chambers, an eerily calm smile upon her powdered face.

/

The mermaids swam in circles beneath the _Jolly Roger,_ hungry and in dire need of the flesh a vengeful woman had promised them. The eternal boy sat upon that self-same ship, his mind a muddle of unhappy thoughts and confusion. A whore held a storyteller's life in her manicured fingers before a terrified pirate Captain who had before this very instant, known very few moments of fear.

Captain Hook broke the silence that had settled over the ship when the crew and the troupe of Lost Boys had caught sight of the scene about to play out before them.

"Let her go."


	28. Chapter 28: Of Battles & Happy Thoughts

_OF TERRIBLE BATTLES AND HAPPY THOUGHTS_

"What does God want? Does God want goodness or the choice of goodness? Is a man who chooses the bad perhaps in some way better than a man who has the good imposed upon him?"

(Anthony Burgess, _A Clockwork Orange_)

/

/

Captain's Hook's forget-me-not blue eyes were blood red. His breaths came in controlled heaves as he stared at his prisoner bride at the mercy of the prostitute who used to frequent his bedchamber. He glared at the woman who held Wendy's life in her hands.

"Annabeth. Let her go."

The harlot tittered with laughter, her white teeth bright in the moonlight.

"Let her go? And go with her any bargaining chip I have for my brief life? Odds fish, what a thought! No, James, she and I are going to get a little more closely acquainted."

He raised his pistol, aiming it at her skull.

"I'll blast your brains out, Annabeth. You forget I am an excellent shot."

The sound of another gun being cocked resounded in the silence on deck. Rufio held a pistol as well, and had it aimed straight at Wendy's heart.

"And you forget I am an excellent shot as well, _Captain_," the boy said with a grin.

Hook ground his teeth before lowering his weapon, expecting the black and red-haired youth to do the same. At the nod of Annabeth, the boy did lower his weapon. Hook sighed inwardly in momentary relief.

"We are at an impasse then."

"Hardly," Annabeth said, her musical voice hardly relaying the severity of the situation.

"What do you want, woman?"

"Want? Oh, my dear man, my wants are so very meager. A home on the coast, a life of luxury, more jewels dripping from my wrists than I know what to do with…in sooth I only want what most women desire; frivolity and excess. Simplicity. But my needs…my needs are a little more…precisely tuned." She smiled, a horrifying flash of red lips and white teeth. "I need your suffering, James. By any means necessary."

He glared at her, trying to remember to keep his composure as he stalked towards the pair of women, who were slowly retreating towards the ship's plank. Hook paled. He had to keep Wendy safe, had to distract Annabeth, for he could hear the lapping sea beneath, swarming with hungry mermaids who would enjoy nothing more than to destroy his beloved.

"Take your vengeance out on me, Annabeth. The woman has done you no wrong."

Annabeth laughed, shallowly so as not to incite a coughing fit that would put her at a bloodied disadvantage.

"Has she not? James, she has stolen you away from me. From my son."

"I was not part and parcel to his creation, Annabeth."

"No," she admitted with a roll of her eyes, "but it was not for want of trying."

"Your hired services were no longer needed, your profession dictates the temporality of your services, Annabeth. You cannot, in good conscience, fault me for behaving as others had before and after me."

She shrugged.

"Perhaps not. Perhaps I saw in you a mode of escape."

"A frivolous thought I did not incite in you. I made no declarations of affection, of this you must acquit me."

She scowled.

"So acquitted. But you sent me to a slow death, James. When you…when you turned me out of your quarters so few years ago, a member of your crew happened upon me."

"And what is that to me?"

"Had you not sent me away…had you not called me in the first place, I would have never been exposed to the man. Would never been exposed to his disease which even now flows through my blood and pulses my upcoming demise so fervently."

"And this is my fault? You are a hired woman, Annabeth! By your chosen profession you put yourself in harm's way for every disease that passes through the realm. I am not at fault. And neither is my wife."

Annabeth shrugged.

"I shall not die knowing that you can live in this world happily and without a care, Hook. You are as foul a villain as ever you were, and you do not deserve any happiness."

With that, she made a run for the plank, Wendy dragged behind her. Hook screamed, but was tackled by Rufio, the latter attempting, successfully, to keep the Captain from reaching and saving his bride. From the silent crew, a hero came. Mac, the Captain's former cabin boy, the dullard in whose eyes Wendy was nigh well to a goddess, bolted forward with a grunt of rage. The harlot's reactions were slowed by the surprise in the commotion. She dropped Wendy's arm, searching for her sword. Not caring for his own safety, Mac tackled her over the edge of the plank. They fell over the edge, screaming; Annabeth's last act, though, sent a terrified start through Captain Hook. She grasped Wendy's ankle, pulling the woman overboard with herself and Mac. As the trio fell, Annabeth's grasp on Wendy faltered, and the harlot's arms flailed as she saw her demise coming so rapidly in the starved, wet faces of the mermaids beneath. Two splashes echoed in the depths, followed by screams. Hook pushed Rufio off of him and ran to the side of the ship, his blue eyes searching for any evidence of his bride. He found only mermaid tails retreating into the seas and blood floating in water.

The alighting of two small feet on the decks did not draw Hook from his obsessive gaze searching the waters. His wife's voice, however, drew him from his terror.

"James."

He turned, his eyes wide and searching. There stood Wendy, a little worse for wear, smiling at him, serenely. Peter Pan was by her side. The boy, whose confusion and terror over the last few days had rid him of his ability to fly, had drawn every happy thought of Wendy he had from his mind, and had flown to her aide just in time to save her from certain doom. Hook moved to hug his bride to himself. A pulsing pain in his skull and overwhelming blackness kept him from his aim. He fell to the deck in a heap, unconscious. Rufio stood above him, the butt of his pistol gripped in his hand. He glared at Peter.

"You see what he's done, boys? He saved the pirate lady! He's as much a traitor as she is! Have at them!"

Overpowering the pirates by sheer number and rage, the Lost Boys quickly knocked the masses into the same unconscious as their Captain, or killed them outright. Peter, for his part, was so surprised by their responses, he failed to notice as Rufio aimed his pistol at his chest. Tinkerbell, who until this very moment had been watching the battle from afar, flitted down and grabbed onto the gun; the shot that rang out barreling instead into the thick wooden staircase of the ship. Tinkerbell fell to the decks, grasping her deafened little ears. The Lost Boys clamored in rage. They couldn't _kill _Peter. The very idea was treason, even _if _the boy had saved the traitorous Wendy. Rufio rolled his eyes and holstered his gun. He bent down and picked Tinkerbell up by her wings, glaring at her for a moment, before turning his attention to the Lost Boys, who had finally finished tying up the last of the pirate crew.

"Very well, bring them both with us. But keep this," he said with a disdainful scowl at Tinkerbell's prone form, "locked away."

Longshot caught the fairy as Rufio threw her to him, and, with a whispered apology, locked her up in a small snuffbox in his pocket. Luckily, the boy used it to house trapped beetles or grasshoppers, not carry snuff, and thus, it had a few choice air holes poked in its top, allowing Tinkerbell at least the freedom of breathing the stale air of his pocket. Peter's face paled. Rufio smiled, knowingly.

"If you wish your fairy to live, Pan, you'll come with us and won't think of flying away with the pirate woman."

Torn between his allegiance to Tinkerbell and his desire to keep Wendy safe, Peter faltered. Wendy, tears streaming down her face, her gaze moving between Peter's torn face and Hook's limp form on the deck, patted Peter's hand, reassuringly.

"I owe you my life, Peter. I cannot allow you to give up Tinkerbell's life simply because you chose to save mine. We shall go with them. Come along."

She took Peter's hand as they were lead off of the _Jolly Roger_ by Rufio and the easily swayed Lost Boys.

/

/

Mac and Annabeth had hit the waters with dual splashes. They had screamed the moment they resurfaced and were faced with the beautiful faces of the dozen mermaids who they fell before. The leader of the small group, a devastating beauty with red hair and slanted teardrop eyes, glared into the very soul of Annabeth. She found her lacking, and no minimal loyalties of mermaids to prostitutes would save the woman now. The redhead gave a curt nod and Annabeth was pulled under, her blood quickly tainting the sea above her bright red. The mermaid leader swam to look at Mac, his sniffling not betraying the intense relief he felt in his heart that he would at very least have taken Wendy's place; if he had to die to keep the wonderful woman safe, so be it. With a flashing of light in her pupils, the redheaded mermaid saw his thoughts, saw into his pure soul, and smiled. He would make an excellent addition, an excellent and loyal mate. Her face was beautiful, all mermaids were beautiful, but there lay in her heart the briefest flickerings of kindness which was so rare to find in the finned race. She drew Mac into her arms and kissed him. Bewitched by her beauty and her action, he did not resist, and gave himself over to her embrace. As she pulled him under the waters with her, a jutting pain pulsed through his body. The same flash of light which had sparkled in her pupils now began in his, before traversing his whole body, making it gleam with light. He writhed in agony as his legs kicked involuntarily; he felt his lower half burn in unquenchable fire for a few moments before finally numbing. His clothes melted away from his form. He took a few, heaving breaths of seawater and did not drown. The beautiful redhead smiled at him, her teardrop eyes sparkling in mirth. She glanced down at the green tail which flicked at her where his legs had once been. She swam a few yards away, turning back to grin at him and laugh. Without any more care for the upper worlds above him, Mac followed her into the depths of the sea, his kind heart soaring at the joy of being one of the few victims of the race chosen to be a mermaid's eternal mate.

/

/

A few hours after the battle and the ensuing kidnapping of Wendy, a Lost Boy and Girl left the confines of Captain Hook's cabin. Haystack looked about the ship at the encumbered pirates, his eyes moving quickly to the prostrate form of the pirate who had ensured the safety of himself and his sister. The Captain was slowly wakened by the boy's shaking of his shoulder. He was cut free by the boy's careful ministrations on the ropes which had so entrapped him. He stood, not caring that the pounding in his head threatened to down him, or that his body was wracked with fatigue and minor battle wounds. He _had _to find Wendy. At any cost. If it took him the entirety of his eternal life, he would search every inch of Neverland, overturn every rock, kill every person in his way, until his wife was returned to him.


	29. Chapter 29: Trials and Tribulations

_TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS_

"The fiery trials through which we pass will light us down in honor or dishonor to the latest generation."

(Abraham Lincoln)

_/_

Rufio sat in judgment over the whole of the Lost Boys. Seated at a large chair atop a tree stump, his height gave him an even more imposing presence. Wendy and Peter were in ropes, standing before him, Tinkerbell trapped under a large glass on the ground next to them. The trial of Wendy for piracy and Peter Pan and Tinkerbell for treason had begun. No Lost Boy was appointed to defend their once mother or their once leader. One had attempted to speak up for Tinkerbell, citing her blind allegiance to Pan and the inability of fairies to feel more than one feeling at a time as the reasons for her clouded judgment, was quickly silenced. Rufio, judge, jury, and executioner, did not wish to hear anything to the contrary of what he felt. And, while he could condemn Wendy to any punishment he saw fit, he was intelligent enough to realize that the Lost Boys would turn against him if he attempted to put Pan to death for his imagined crimes. No, he would have to come up with a more…colorful punishment for the flying menace. He glared down at Wendy, his intent clearly written on his young face.

"For your crimes against the Lost Boys, and Neverland, I sentence you to death, Wendy _Hook_."

The Lost Boys cheered. Tinkerbell pounded on her glass encasement. In their distraction, the Lost Boys did not notice as Peter freed the fairy. She flew to his ear and her bell-like voice tinkled her secret knowledge of Wendy. Peter blushed, his heart felt suddenly very heavy, but at least he knew he could save his friend.

"You can't put her to death, Rufio!"

The boy scowled at him. The audacity! He still thought himself the leader!

"And why not? She _is _a pirate. And this is the fitting punishment for all pirates."

"You cannot kill her. She is with child."

Wendy blanched. Was this some ploy by Peter to save her? Would it work? She mentally went over her cycles…good heaven above, she _was _late for her menses. Could Peter's ploy be true? Rufio growled and hopped off of his seat, moving ever so close to Wendy. She could smell the stench of old rum on his breath.

"Leave me be."

"Is it true?"

Without fail she nodded.

"Yes."

Rufio kicked the ground, dust rising up above him.

"Blast it!"

Peter looked around the Lost Boys, entreating them.

"Men, we cannot but give Wendy leniency. She is to have a child."

With a howl, Rufio was seated again on his chair.

"If she is not to be executed, she shall be banished."

Wendy sighed in relief.

"Very well, I shall return to my husband's ship. I assure you we shall never bother you again."

A deadly smile passed over the boy's thin lips.

"Oh, no, madam. You are not to be remanded to the _Jolly Roger_. You are banished. Boys," he called out, and two strong looking Lost Boys stood before him, flanking Wendy's sides. "Cut her free and send her out into the wilderness. I shall go steal a cart and horse from the town and you will drive her out as far into the wild as you can. We'll leave her there to fend for herself. I shall not aide a child of that blasted pirate Captain to enter so easily into the world."

Wendy screamed her discontent, but fainted dead away from fear and exhaustion. So much the better, Peter thought, as she was placed back in the wooden cage she had spent time within prior to their trial. Rufio looked down on Peter with ill-intent.

"I have business now, but have time enough to sentence you, Pan. You are to be chained and flogged daily for the next fortnight for your sins. If, after the two weeks of punishment, you feel you wish to serve under my leadership, I shall consider it. If you continue to rebel against me, you shall be given another two weeks of punishment, and so on until you have been broken. Have you an understanding?"

Peter nodded, his proud chin raised defiantly toward the Lost Boy he wished he'd never allowed join his ranks. For once, Peter knew deep regret.

"You shall never break me, Rufio. Just as surely as you shall never be the true leader of the Lost Boys."

Rufio glared and motioned for Peter to be taken away to captivity. He would take pleasure in whipping his former leader himself. But for now, he had a horse and cart to steal, and a pirate's bride to send into likely doom. It was a wondrous day indeed.

_/_

_/_

Wendy awoke to the warmth of the sun shining brightly on her face. She sat up, too quickly it seemed, and became lightheaded. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deep the crisp air of the meadow in which she had awoken. Her eyes fluttered open again, squintingly becoming accustomed to the bright, unaltered light. So long as she could make her way back to her husband's side eventually, this punishment was not so very bad, it seemed. She was still alive, unharmed physically, and retained all of her faculties. She stood up with purpose. Her stomach gurgled, her head spun, she retched into the tall green grasses that surrounded her. Once composed again, Wendy stumbled toward a brook, whose churnings she could hear from her vantage point.

She drank deep the cold, clear water that ran through a sparsely forested area. Where she was in Neverland she hadn't the faintest, and how to return to Captain Hook…she sighed. How was she to return to him? Should she venture out, unknowingly into the wilderness, or remain here, hoping that he would happen upon her by some sheer stroke of luck? With her stomach as it was, she opted for the latter. She'd no idea if she would be capable of walking much distance, her fluctuating nausea coming more frequently as of late. She looked around at the trees which surrounded her, and their fallen brethren on the forest's floor. Well, that settled it. She would wait. And she would have to make some sort of shelter to do so comfortably.

Wendy had adequately constructed a lean-to, using the largest of the downed tree trunks she could raise as the base, and covering it with woven, thatched branches as makeshift walls. Her hands were filthy, she was exhausted and starving, but she had ample protection from the elements and the creatures who roamed Neverland in the dark. A few hours later she found herself sufficiently pleased with her little camp. She had collected firewood, dug a trench a few paces away for certain unpleasant activities, and had built a small fire pit. Her stomach grumbled, loudly, its discontent. She sighed. Ah yes, sustenance; that was of vital import.

Ashamed she hadn't paid much attention in her classes on the natural world, Wendy found herself unsure of the safety of many of the mushrooms and berries which she found in her rummagings through the forest and meadow near her camp. Although unsure of many plants she encountered, Wendy found herself assured of the safety of a bevy of plants with which she was accustomed to seeing. She found wild asparagus, their stalks much more long and thin than the garden variety, cattails near the little stream, dandelions, and fistfuls of mulberries. Her heart ached when she recalled telling the Lost Boys the story of the mulberry's coloring, but ignored the pangs for the moment. She had to focus on survival and, if she was not rescued within ample time, escape. She placed her little groceries on a large piece of tree bark she had torn off for just such a purpose when a sight in the distance caught her eye. _That would certainly be an assistance! _She ran toward the sight, laughing all the way. What a _wonder _Neverland was!

In the distance, Wendy had spotted a coconut tree, its high branches loaded with the tasty treats, in various states of maturity. The coconut palm seemingly sat in a large portion of sand very conspicuously. Nowhere near them, to her knowledge, was the sea. But she was not complaining, no, instead Wendy shimmied up the trunk and filled her greedy arms full of coconuts, both brown for their crisp meat, and green for their fullness of sweet juice. She made it to the ground again with ease and gleefully carried her prizes back to her camp. Though this forced banishment may be a hitch in her life with her beloved Hook, she was determined to at the very least eat well while she was here.

/

/

Hook was going insane with worry. The only beings which kept him tethered to reality were the two children who remained on his ship long after their leader and mates had left. The little girl, Felicity he believed her name to be, had taken a distinct liking to him. The boy, Haystack, was not so easily swayed, but, when he realized the depths of despair that Hook went through in his search for the beloved Wendy, he allowed the pirate favor. Hook spent his days, from sunup to sundown, searching every area he could. He would return to his ship some nights, others he would sleep in a little tent in whatever area he was searching through. He hadn't found her. It had been a month. Soon it was two months. Nothing. He hadn't heard anything from her, hadn't found a trace of his adored Wendy anywhere. It was pushing him swiftly over the edge. She was still alive, that much he knew from some informant's letter dropped on his chest as he slept in the wilderness one night, not long after his bride's kidnapping. The letter had said quite succinctly, "_She is banished. In wilderness. Alive._" He wondered at its author, but gave up the thought to focus on his dedicated task. He had to find his bride. And once he had her again, she would never leave his side.

/

/

Tiger Lily stalked through the Chiz-Tkoh forest, the center of Neverland, surrounded by trees and mountains. She was thankful that the blasted usurper had been kind enough to leave the woman near one of the few sources of fresh water that flowed through the land. She could hear Wendy bustling about her little camp. Tiger Lily smiled as the auburn-haired woman's frame came into view. It had only been three months since she left the _Jolly Roger_, and she was showing already, a little pooched stomach jutting out from her billowing shirt. The Chieftess would appeal to Wendy's innate need to keep her child safe, a need with which Tiger Lily was all too well familiar, and would bring the woman back to stay with the Indians of the Piccanniny tribe. There she would be cared for and attended to throughout her pregnancy; Tiger Lily knew that Wendy could not return to the _Jolly Roger_, for pirates never aged, and the woman would be trapped forever, her babe not growing, never being born. What a horrifying concept. She wondered how the pair had even created this little life, but did not dwell on the idea. Though she would aide his bride and help care for his child, Tiger Lily still hated Hook with a passion. But the innocents deserved life and safety. She stalked into Wendy's camp, purposefully making her presence known early on so as not to startle the pregnant woman. Wendy's eyes fell on the proud Chieftess as she made her way toward her. Confusion, fear, and hope settled into her heart. What in the world could this mean?


	30. Chapter 30: Bargaining

_BARGAINING_

"Come live with me, and be my love,

And we will some new pleasures prove

Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,

With silken lines, and silver hooks."(John Donne, _The Bait_)

Well, she'd never expected guests in her humble little lean-to, that much was certain. Wendy, unsure, frightened, intrigued, nodded to the little cushioned area of ground she had constructed in her time in her camp. Quickly finding herself easily able to weave softer grasses, Wendy had created a near-carpeted area for herself to sit and sleep upon, as well as a blanket to cover herself with in the colder times of day and while she slept. She had expected Hook or Peter to find her sooner, but the days flew by and when she realized for certain that she was, indeed, carrying the Captain's child, she couldn't very well put herself in danger by traipsing about an unfamiliar jungle into uncertain areas. So, she stayed decidedly put, making every effort to increase her comforts while she remained here. One such comfort was a set of two simple plates whittled from tree bark, which she filled with berries and scrapings of coconut. She handed one plate to Tiger Lily with a smile, and indicated that the Chieftess should sit with her on the ground. They sat in silence for a few minutes, munching on the fruits before Tiger Lily deigned to speak.

"You well hidden."

Wendy nodded.

"Yes, it's a part of Neverland to which I've never traveled…that _impostor _in Peter's place made certain I was hidden somewhere I couldn't easily find my way out of."

"Hook scours island for you. Has killed many."

Wendy paled.

"Oh no…he hasn't…he hasn't harmed any of your people, has he?"

The Chieftess shook her head.

"No. But only a matter of time."

"Will you help me get back to him?"

"That I cannot do."

"But, why ever not?"

Tiger Lily sighed and looked at Wendy intently.

"Your child. She never grow on boat."

"What do you mean?"

Tiger Lily placed her calloused brown hand on Wendy's growing stomach.

"Her soul burns; she wants life. Pirates…pirates no age. You return now, baby always trapped inside you, never growing, never coming into world. Her soul burn up if trapped too long."

Wendy could scarce believe what she was hearing.

"It can't be true…she…how do you know my baby is a girl?"

The Chieftess shrugged.

"It is a gift."

With a nod, Wendy stared blankly ahead of herself.

"What am I to do?"

"Two choices you have. You stay here," Tiger Lily said, motioning to the sparse area surrounding them, "Or you come to my village. You well taken care of there. Much comfort. Safety from beast and man."

Wendy's anger flared slightly.

"My husband would never harm me."

Tiger Lily laughed; the sound echoed mirthlessly in her throat.

"Possible. He may no hurt you, but hurt many others. Will hurt more now to get to you. His mind…the threads slowly unbind…soon lost to madness."

"And if he finds I am in your care? What do you think he will do? Do you truly think he will listen to reason if he is in such a state as you describe?"

Tiger Lily had not taken that into account. She paused for a moment, then stood and motioned for her companion to follow her.

"Hook know you live; by my hand he know. We speak of how you wish to see him. Not welcome in my village; by his hook have I and many of my people suffered. But your safety keep my people safe. Cannot remain here. Soon some beast will find you. Safer in my care. When child comes, we raise."

Wendy backed away, aghast.

"You cannot mean for me to leave my child!"

The Chieftess rolled her dark eyes.

"Never grow old! Never grow up! Is that life you wish for daughter? I have daughter. Would not wish such a life. Unnatural. Growing old is a gift. Magicks keep pirates and Pans young forever; Indians…we know value of life. Live each breath as if last."

Seeing that her companion was still too confused to properly make life-altering decisions, Tiger Lily relented. She would ensure Wendy's safety at the moment. It was unconscionable to leave her to her own devices in the wilderness; a pregnant, proper English lady? Ha! The very thought!

"We discuss when you better rested. Come now. You eat. Too skinny. Baby cry for milk and better food."

With no way of knowing if she would ever be found again and seeing Tiger Lily's offer as her best means of seeing her beloved again, Wendy acquiesced and followed the Chieftess through the thick jungles toward the encampment of the Piccaninny tribe.

/

/

Tiger Lily had not been jesting when she assured Wendy that her encampment was comfortable and safe. Far from the small area of teepees and fires that it had once been, the camp had progressed significantly and now appeared far more civilized to Wendy's discerning eye. Still present were the teepees of old, but between them lay many sturdier appearing huts of wood and stone and brick. Similar in shape to the teepee style, the new homes tapered of at the top into points. Smoke came from the flues in many of the smallish huts; Wendy was especially grateful for the possibility of heat. It had been exceptionally cold the past week and her woven grass blanket was unable to stave off the entirety of the chill rattling her bones.

The Chieftess called a thin young man over to her, whispered in his ear, and nodded to him. He ran off and the Chieftess turned her attentions back to Wendy.

"He prepare bathing area for you. Once you clean, you write to Captain. Tell him you safe. I make sure he get letter myself. Remember. I help you. I help baby. But Hook no welcome."

"But I must see him! Please," Wendy begged, tears flowing freely down her face. "Please…you must let me see him."

"You love him."

"I do."

Tiger Lily sighed.

"Bathe. I will think."

/

/

/

If Hook could sprout wings or had happy thoughts enough to lift his beleaguered body off of the ground, he would have flown. Had he been able to move any faster to Wendy's side than he was able at present, he would have done so. As it was not and he could not, he had to resign himself to the simplistic mode of travel which necessity dictated he use. He walked. Ran, more like, his crew far behind his muddied heels. Exhaustion did not dare rear its head; Hook saw only one goal: _Wendy_. All other concerns were forgotten. Had he a broken leg, he would have run upon it with ease, so strong was his desire to be reunited with his bride. He reached the edge of the Piccaninny encampment. It was not his Wendy who waited for him there, but a tall, scowling tower of a woman. Chieftess Tiger Lily held him at an impasse, her bow drawn, an arrow aimed at his quickly beating heart. His crew were miles away from him, no doubt, as his feet had not ceased in their sprinting run that they were left, lost in the jungles. His heart raced. He could not die now; not so close to having his Wendy in his arms again.

"Your gun. Your sword. Drop them," the Chieftess commanded.

Hook complied, his pride, his courage, all forgotten. Only Wendy remained in his mind.

"Anything. Just give me Wendy."

Tiger Lily shook her head, but lowered her weapon.

"She must stay here."

His forgotten temper raged, his eyes flickering their dangerous red.

"What?"

"She will explain."

Tiger Lily pointed to a large teepee along the riverbank. It sat just at the edge of the Piccaninny encampment.

"You no welcome in my village. But for girl…she needs you. Tonight is gift. Accept it as such. You only return when moon is full or empty. This is my offer, in return I offer protection for both of them."

Tiger Lily faded into the black night, leaving Hook with his mouth agape. He roared in anger and kicked at the dirt beneath his feet. An auburn head poked out of the teepee by the river. The lyrical voice caressed his aching body and he scarce heard the sweet words that floated along the cold night air. Wendy's eyes brightened as they locked with Hook's doubting blue orbs. Her heart leapt, she ran to him.

"James!"

/

/

Another scream echoed in the cold starlight. Rufio brought the metal-tipped ends of a whip down on Pan's already mutilated back. The once-wondrous boy cried out in agony; tied to the cage in which he was jailed, and tethered to the ground further by a lack of happy thoughts and fairy dust, he could not fly away, nor could he save himself from the torture at the hands of a boy he had once taken into his home. Tinkerbell was no more. Even his physical pain could not compare to the agony of knowing she was lost forever to him; he wept at the thought or verbalization of her name. Rufio; the cruel, horrid boy that he was, had ripped the fairy's wings off of her when she had tempted fate one last time to save her beloved Peter. She had perished and was tossed aside with a cruel laugh by the monster now torturing the once most-carefree child in two worlds. Tinkerbell had not even been given the decency of a proper burial; she had been tossed aside into a pile of leaves like so much garbage. Peter gagged at the thought. Rufio chortled with laughter above him, thinking his beating was bringing about the reaction in Pan. He would break him soon enough, and from there would turn his attention to Hook. He would rule Neverland forevermore, of that he was certain.


	31. Chapter 31: Abandoned

_ABANDONED_

"It is said that the present is pregnant with the future."

(Voltaire)

Wendy was in Hook's arms an instant after she called out his name. He had crossed the distance between them with such speed, Wendy had hardly the time to blink; his gloriously muscular arms were wrapped around her, drawing her close to himself in front of the small teepee from which she had emerged. His head was buried in the crook of her neck; Wendy was unable to hold back the joyous tears from rolling down her face…she hoped he forgave her if he was soaked on her account. In his haste and blinding desire to have her close, Hook neglected to notice her bulging middle half until he had taken a few shuddering inhalations of her much longed for scent. If that silly Chieftess thought that he would leave his Wendy in anyone's care but his own, she was sorely mistaken. He would burn their worthless village to the ground, slaughter every Piccaninny who roamed the world, if only to keep Wendy in his arms.

He held onto her as if, at any moment, she might vanish. Wendy did not indicate her awareness of the few tears she felt fall on her shoulder; there was no sense in defaming the proud pirate Captain by acknowledging he was capable of emitting even the fewest of tears. He pulled away from her as he hand fell to her waist; his blue eyes searched her own green orbs in the starlight. Surely she could not have simply gained a significant amount of weight living off of the scarce means of the land. She smiled. She glowed. Wendy motioned for Hook to follow her into the tepee Tiger Lily had set up for just that purpose. There was a single oil lamp in the center, casting a dim light that allowed Hook to get a better view of his bride. Twas no trick of the moonlight, indeed she _did _glow. She was radiant. Effulgent. He fought to form words.

"Wh…h…wh…how…how long have you known, Wendy?"

She smiled. Sunlight could not have shone brighter in their dimly lit teepee.

"I had been wondering…I had an inclination, as it were, but I thought it a trick of Neverland and our newly found…arrangement."

"Pirates cannot age here, Wendy. We do not grow, do not…you should not have been able to conceive as a pirate, my lady. Had I thought…had I thought otherwise I would have taken precautions."

Her smile faltered. The light dulled.

"Precautions?"

"To avoid this. Pregnancy is a dangerous business, my pet, in your world and mine."

"I would bear any risk to have this child."

"I wished no risks would ever come to you."

She glared at him in disbelief.

"This is _Neverland_, James. It is fraught with dangers at every impasse, more so now that I am a pirate and an adult. Is that not what you told me on my return?"

He faltered.

"Well, yes, but…."

"And would it not stand to reason, then, that I should do everything in my power to be the happiest I can be while I have not succumbed to one of these dangers?"

His temper flared. She would not best him, despite his joy at her return into his arms.

"Am I not enough to make you happy? Lord, how fickle is woman!"

A frown marred her pretty face.

"You know I do not mean that, Captain," she said, his Christian name failing to fall from her icy tongue.

He sighed; looked at her in earnest, his blue eyes losing their harsh edge.

"I cannot bear the thought of losing you, Wendy. Can't you see…can't you understand that it would end me?"

He pulled her into his arms, she was unwilling at first, but the fear in his voice, the aching number of nights spent alone without this comfort had cracked her resolve. She melted into his embrace.

"I believe I knew the moment it happened…the moment our child began. Twas after I had escaped, before you returned me to your ship, before I became a pirate in earnest once more."

The realization spread across his face, he pulled back; the thought of that glorious night rambled through his brain as he stared into her eyes.

"Ah. That would follow, would it not?"

"You are not pleased," her voice wavered. "I know…I know your fears, I know you do not have a fondness for children, but I had hoped," she trailed off as tears flowed freely down her face. "I had hoped your own child would not be a source of contention or anger."

She wept. Hook stared at her, unable to form a cogent thought for a few moments. It was agony for Wendy and she threw herself onto the small pile of furs and skins she had laid out so carefully in plan of seducing him. Her eyes were rimmed red, she looked up at Hook a wretched creature. His heart beat firmly against is ribcage, enraged at his foolishness, threatening to jump out of his flesh and lay before his bride in supplication. His conscience railed at his selfishness. True, he had never thought himself the fatherly sort; quite the opposite, he spent most of the past decades attempting to murder a young boy and his damned friends. He sighed. If the mother was any indication of the child, he feared he would love this being with his whole heart, would defend them both to his own demise. How in God's name did this happen? He was Captain James Hook; feared villain, evil pirate, murderous beast…he looked at his quietly sniffling bride and felt his soul burst. He was Captain James Hook…husband…father…lover…and pirate still. Love did not change him for the worse, rather, it allowed him some semblance of true happiness in his otherwise cold world. He realized this and the ghosting of a grin enveloped his full lips. He was elated to have Wendy, _his _Wendy, carrying his child. He was proud. He went to her, kneeling before her on the furs.

"Wendy…Wendy, darling, look at me."

She shook her head, drew her knees to her chest as best she could with her small protruding belly.

"No. Go 'way."

He rolled his eyes.

"Sweet, please. Just for a moment."

She frowned, but did as he asked. His eyes were not red as she feared, but were their entrancing blue. He smiled at her; her anger melted.

"You are not cross?"

He clutched her to himself, the pain of losing her still fresh in his mind. He would not be part and parcel to causing that to occur again, especially by his actions.

"Of course not; silly girl. It is just…it is just a surprise, that is all."

"You hate children."

"Ones who try to maim or kill me, yes. Those two you seem to have bewitched are not so very horrid."

She sat back, confused.

"Sir?"

"In the skirmish where you were taken," his hook shook in still-recalled rage. "The two who I sent to my cabin to hide. The blonde boy and his sister."

Wendy smiled.

"Haystack. And Felicity."

"Yes."

"You recall them from so many months ago?"

"Well, they have been in my care since you went away…I could not in good conscience send two so small back to that damned Rufio. I cannot say I have been exceptionally kind to them; I have been combing the whole of Neverland for you, Wendy. I forgot to sleep, forgot to eat…I have not had an easy moment until the Chieftess sent word you were safe."

"I was sent into the wilderness."

"Was Pan of no help?"

Wendy's face fell.

"I fear Peter fared worse than I."

Hook was surprisingly concerned.

"Dead?"

"I know not."

"And the usurper?"

"Wanted to hang me. Peter is the only reason I live. He and Tinkerbell told him I was with child…'twas before I even knew. I thought it a ruse to save me and so I went along with what I thought was a charade. But they were right. I do not know how, but they were right. And I fear I shall never be able to thank them for saving our family."

They lay together, wrapped in each other's arms, for nigh on an hour. His hand drifted to her stomach, caressed it. Se ran her fingers through his unruly curls. They made love slowly, luxuriously; he had undressed her easily, the skins she was clothed in easily untied even one-handedly. He had rid himself of all but his breeches and boots, wanting to feel Wendy too eagerly to bother with the difficult tasks of removing those articles. They came together, a pulsing tribute to mutual love culminated. They lay wrapped in each other again, panting with spent lust.

"I must tell you something dreadful, James," she said, her confidence slightly risen in her post-coital haze.

"Now?"

"Before I cannot speak again."

"Are you cursed, my love? Is your tongue nigh to falling out?"

"James, please. It's about…about the baby. About me."

His expression turned coldly serious.

"Pray continue."

"I cannot…I cannot return with you to the ship. If I do, our child shall die."

He stood. He raged.

"What? For whom do you glean this knowledge?"

"Tiger Lily."

He scoffed.

"And she has much to gain from your ignorance. Come, Wendy. We're leaving."

He grabbed for her, she moved away, her face contorted in a frown.

"You said yourself that pirates do not age, sir. What do you think will happen to me if I return to the _Jolly Roger_? Will I continue to progress in my pregnancy? Will our child age?"

He frowned.

"I…I…."

"You know what will happen. I will not put our child at risk."

"I do not ask you to! I wish to be able to protect you!"

"From what? Where am I better protected than in a jungle, surrounded by warriors commanded to protect me by their Chieftan?"

"You are safer at my side!"

Resolve stirred in Wendy's heart. She had to make him see reason.

"Sir, the _worst _punishment in the world you could think of for me could not be as irritatingly horrid as the thought of forever being with child…the morning illness, the swelling…the mood disorientation…if you do not let me stay, I fear that I shall slit your neck in the middle of the night just so I may go and deliver this wretchedly wonderful baby of yours."

His eyes dilated, his breath hitched, his blood drummed in his ears. She was right. By the gods above she was. And he was a fool.

/

/

Peter Pan was dead. When the boy who had once been forever young, forever joy, looked upon his reflection in a pool of rainwater which shone on the floor of his cage, he knew. He was dead. This was hell, his punishment for years of frivolity, years of childish innocence and horrid actions committed under the guise of boyish pranks. He was a monster, all but as bad as the one who kept him locked in a dank cell, unable to stretch his legs, unable to crow, unable to fly. Peter Pan was no more. He was Peter now, Peter alone, Peter unloved. Done for.


	32. Chapter 32: Aching

_ACHING_

"You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth."

Khalil Gibran

Captain Hook sat, watching Wendy sleep, until the flecks of orange and purple signaling dawn's arrival crept into their tepee. The night was over; if he adhered to Wendy's request, he would not see her again for weeks. His left hand caressed her face, his digits trailing down the soft, milky skin. His eyes flashed to her small belly. To believe that his child, _his _child, grew inside of this woman was incredible. To believe that he would willingly leave her to be cared for by _savages _was ludicrous. He couldn't bear it. At the moment, however, he had no alternative. He would allow her the next few weeks, during which time he would flesh out the validity of what he perceived to be his only other recourse. Wendy would grow to her full term in two places; in one at least he would be able to have her close at hand. They would need provisions, of course, and he only had a few short weeks to secure a life for his Wendy. He sighed. _Neverland _weeks. Where he considered traveling had a time frame that was entirely of a different sort.

He didn't _want _to go to England, quite the contrary. He hated the thought of going to that dreadful place again, had only gone once more to retrieve Wendy. And now...he sighed. Now he was contemplating returning forever to that death sentence of a city. Wendy would grow old. He would grow old. Their child would grow old. All of them would die, eventually, he much sooner than the rest of them, no doubt. He did not wish to dwell on it, the idea of sentencing his beautiful Wendy to death, even the slow, natural death of _age _felt horrific to him. He couldn't bear it. He sighed. He had to. At least he had to attempt to seek out a life for them there...it was the only option which at least kept Wendy by his side. His position as Captain of the _Jolly Roger _made staying in Neverland without the protection his pirating ways provided impossible. His eyes flickered between blue and red...he had to make some sense of their situation. And, if visiting bloody _England _to see if creating a life there for his family was even viable settled his mind, so be it. He would do anything for his Wendy. Even if it meant his own demise.

/

/

Wendy awoke alone with but an elegantly scrawled note as a reminder of her husband's presence.

_Until the moon hearkens me return to your side, I remain ever yours._

_Jas. Hook_

She sighed. The next few weeks would be difficult, but they could weather any trials. And they each had so many things to preoccupy their minds, the time would, no doubt, pass quickly. Yes. Undoubtedly. She could not convince herself of that. She had to focus on her plans; her plans would divert her enough. She wished to form a pact with Chieftess Tiger Lily, providing for a mutual coexistence of pirate and Piccaninny that discouraged attacks. More importantly, she had to find Peter. She had to save Peter.

The boy to whom she, in all reality, owed everything wonderful in her life, was lost. And not of his own accord. The realm had not crumbled; he was still alive. But, if the fluctuating weather was any indication, he was quickly losing hope of even being rescued. Wendy decided as she rose, pulling her deerskin garments back on to cover her nude form, she would beg the Chieftess for her assistance. No doubt the woman had allegiances to Peter; he had, after all, saved her from dying at the hook of her husband so many years ago. At any rate, she had to try. Peter's soul cried out to her through the trees of Neverland. Time was of the essence.

/

The previous night's beating had been especially thorough. Rufio seemed a bit bored with his regular techniques and decided to try a new method. He had focused his attentions on Peter's extremities last night; his feet, his hands his genitals…all now throbbed and ached in their various stages of clotting and scarring. His right hand, however, was of particular concern. Where the rest of his wounds burned with pain, his right hand was chilled, near-frigid to the touch. The wounds were paler than the others, too, and made Peter regretfully dwell on the previous night's torture.

_He had escaped. The fleeting moments of freedom, of clear, fresh Neverland air, coursed through his lungs, through his soul. It was all too quickly ripped away from him as he was captured and dragged back to the sneering form of his tormentor. Rufio seemed somehow glad that Peter had run. It gave him the thrill of chasing the boy who had little to no chance of escaping for long with his life intact. _

"_Well, welly, well, well. Peter's decided to take a stroll, eh? So quick to leave the comforts of my care without so much of a 'thank you.' Very rude, my boy, very rude indeed. How ever will I punish you?"_

_His eyes had glistened. Peter knew to be wary of that sparkling mirth; it always denoted coming torture. Rufio picked up a steel-tipped whip from the muddy ground beneath them, its filthy metal tips rusted and caked with mud and dried dirt. He had Peter stripped, had attacked his right hand, his fighting hand, first, so the appendage bore the brunt of the assault from the filthy instrument. By the time Rufio reached Peter's other extremities, his energy was lowered and the weapon was all but free of infectious filth thanks to the cleansing gushes of Peter's red, red blood. _

Peter's mind flashed back to the present for a few, pulsingly painful moments, until he succumbed to his agony and lost consciousness.

/

Wendy prepared for battle. Well, prepared _others _for battle and herself for stealth. Tiger Lily owed a life debt to Peter Pan and agreed to extend her army to save him. They would swoop in to save the boy. Wendy had sent word to Captain Hook, begging his assistance. He may hate Peter, may blame him for his injury, but, if not for him, they would never have met. Their love and child would never have grown, had it not been for Peter stealing her away to Neverland so many years prior.

/

/

When Wendy's letter arrived, Captain Hook had been gone from Neverland for nigh on an hour. Mr. Smee had stayed behind and received the note, reading it. His face paled, the rosy hue of his cheeks draining. The Captain would _not _like this. But he had been instructed to do all he could to protect Miss Wendy. He ran to the deck and rang a loud bell. The men turned their attention to him. His voice was clear and surprisingly without a hint of a stutter; he was truly worried for the safety of his Captain's bride.

"Men! We battle alongside Miss Wendy! Prepare arms!"

/

/

Author's Note:

So, I have to apologize for the delay in updating here. I had a few things keeping me from updating this story. 1. I had eye surgery (voluntary). 2. I was pretty darn sick (not voluntary). 3. My muse decided she only wanted to focus on the other story I'm in the process of finishing. So, I'm sorry. I hope my neglect hasn't been detrimental in my reader base, and I hope you all still care about what happens to our favorite pirate and his beautiful wench. Thank you for reading, please stay with me for the next, final few chapters.

-Rachel


	33. Chapter 33: Awakenings

_AWAKENINGS _

"And Lot's wife, of course, was told not to look back where all those people and their homes had been. But she _did _look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human. So she was turned into a pillar of salt. So it goes.

People aren't supposed to look back. I'm certainly not going to do it anymore."

(Kurt Vonnegut, _Slaughterhouse-Five_)

/

As his crew readied themselves for battle, as the Piccaninny tribe and his pregnant bride equipped themselves with daggers and rage, as Rufio sat lording his power above a broken little boy, Captain Hook walked through the cold streets of London, a satchel at his hip and deadly intent in his mind. He needed to get in and out of England as quickly as he could; he wanted to be with his Wendy as soon as possible. He rented a room for a night so he could conduct his business and be on his way by the following evening. He slept easily, knowing that his decision to return his family to England was for the best. Should he have seen the beginnings of the battle, the blood pouring from the innards of his crew and various Lost Boys, should he have seen the horror on his bride's face as she pulled a shriveled Peter Pan from the pit in which he had been kept for days, he would have not whistled so cleanly, nor been able to make small talk with the investment banker who just happened to bear a striking resemblance to his boatswain and was _most _accommodating when realizing exactly to whom he spoke. As it was, the Captain was blissfully ignorant and finished his business in England without excess trouble addling his mind.

He returned to a blood-red Neverland.

His ship was a nightmare of violence, the normally cleanly _Jolly Roger_ rocking in the swelling sea tainted red with blood. The mermaids circled hungrily as soul after soul fell to meet their demise at their cool hands. His eyes blazed that same glowing red they did whenever confronted with fear, rage, or the compilation of the two. _Where was Wendy? _That was the most imperative question to be answered. He rowed the tiny vessel he had again commandeered and climbed the side of the ship with the ease of one driven by pure adrenaline and terror.

Wendy stood on the deck, a sword brandished in her white hand, set between a lump of humanity crumbled on the boards and a monstrous child with streaks of red and black hair. Hook's nostrils flared and he shook his head when Wendy's terrified gaze caught his own. Rufio, intently focused on glaring at the mass of child on the floorboards which was our dear Peter Pan, did not notice the sudden flush of the woman's breast nor the relief that flickered in her irises. He stood before the woman and the once-carefree boy and chortled with laughter. He would kill them both, then slaughter the two children who had defected from his tribe of Lost Boys. Rufio began to speak, but when he opened his cruel lips, reams of blood began to flow forth; he wavered, he coughed, he fell dead to the deck. Captain Hook remained at the edge of the boat, his hook not at all involved in the monstrous child's death. Wendy perked an eyebrow.

"James?"

He shrugged.

"I…"

It was then that he noticed the arrow sticking from the boy's chest. His bluing eyes flickered to the crow's nest, from where a proud and accurately marksman climbed down. Tiger Lily dropped to the decks with a look of supreme contentment. She had lost many of her soldiers, but she had seen the shot that needed to be taken and had done so with swiftness. With Rufio dead, the Lost Boys who had remained alive attempted to flee to the shore. Some made it, others found themselves at the mercy of mermaids whose hunger was already sated physically, but their boredom ravenously apparent. Hook had missed the battle. It was a first. He regretted it deeply, but when Wendy fled into his arms and he was assured of her safety, he could not bring himself to truly care.

"Captain? The boy," Tiger Lily said in a weak voice.

He turned his attentions away from holding his bride to the child whom Wendy had protected. It was Peter Pan. His Wendy had nearly died protecting the bane of his existence! But, one look at the injuries covering his form and the leaking wound on his right hand set the Captain near to madness. The boy was riddled with wounds in various states of healing and distortion, and he was dreadfully thin. But that hand…that horrifying right hand! _What in God's name had Rufio done to the child? _Peter was in shock, shaking and twitching on the deck. That was less worrisome than the wound that enveloped the boy's right hand. Hook had seen the like of it before and knew full well what it meant. Peter Pan's right hand was shriveled, black, and oozed in pulsating rhythm.

It was gangrene.

Gangrene was deadly, if not treated, and sometimes claimed lives even after treatment. Swift action was needed. With a sense of great dread, Captain Hook realized that the act in which he had always dreamed of having an active role had turned into a nightmare for both himself and the young boy. He had to amputate Peter's right hand or else the boy would surely die when the infection raged throughout his body, if it had not done so already. One telling gaze at his bride relayed his fears and the need for action. He regretted the necessity and hoped to the heavens above that his actions would make some difference and tilt the scales in the poor boy's favor. True, he had injured him, grievously, but the boy was responsible for his wife's introduction to Neverland. He was just a part of their history as any matchmaker could have been. For this and for the pitiable injuries suffered unduly on a child did the boy deserve saving. And his salvation would come at the hook of his once-enemy.

/

Tiger Lily had held Peter down, Wendy not being able to stomach being in the vicinity for the horrible act. Peter faded in and out of consciousness; Tiger Lily prayed he would remain unconscious as the necessary task was performed. Hook had sterilized his blade with whisky and flames; he held it in his hand, dreading what was to come. He looked to Tiger Lily, whose hatred had dissipated into a common understanding. Hook had been cruel to her, but Wendy had changed him. The Hook that once terrorized Neverland was no more, for he would not have cried at the prospect of cutting a limb from Peter Pan. A tear trickled down his cheek as he raised the blade, poising it over a thin little forearm and briefly recalling his own amputation.

"Despite our history, I cannot rejoice at this turn of events. For the pain I am about to cause, I am sorry."

A shriek of terror and pain echoed on the deck, though Tiger Lily was unable to say for sure from whose lips the sound had fallen. The deed was done. She tended the bleeding wound. Captain Hook staggered back to his cabin and his bride, wary, broken, and trembling.

/

/

_Author's Note:_

_I warred with myself whether or not to add this note, and I won...or lost. Whatever. I'm not partial to being on the defensive, and truthfully I'm not trying to do so here, but I feel I must address the stylistic choices I make, if only for the fact that I've gotten quite a few comments on my wordiness, as it were. Paragraphs, as I define them, are not limited to the standard grade school rules of three to seven sentences strung together. Paragraphs, much like the Imagination, are a slate for the unlimited…should they be indicative of a single or string of related thoughts? Yes. In most cases a definitive yes. I try to reflect that in my writing. In comparison to the paragraph rules so drilled into our students in earlier education, I would turn your attention to James Joyce and respectfully beg your indulgence in my overly-verbose tendencies while thanking the first star to the right I am not one of those very few writers who would attempt to write a 12,931 word sentence, let alone a sinfully-long paragraph. I view my paragraphs, even the longer ones, as more...moralistically-challenged than sinful in terms of extensiveness. I count myself within the cluster of those at the happy medium, whose paragraphs (much like this one is beginning to be) can be voluminous, but are not so involved in a train of thought that readers are derailed and exhausted by the end of the journey. If I am incorrect in my feeling or in error in any way, I apologize and welcome your responses and criticisms. Thank you for your time and happy reading. _


	34. Chapter 34: Tidal Wave

_TIDAL WAVE_

"Great grief is a divine and terrible radiance which transfigures the wretched."

(Victor Hugo, _Les Miserables_)

Peter Pan awoke to a world unlike any other he had experienced before. It was a world of pain and dread and…hope. Wendy had saved him. He was loved. Not in the same way she loved Captain Hook, nor did he desire that feeling from her. He _was _still a little boy and did not desire romantic love in the least stretch of the imagination. But he knew Wendy loved him, and that was as good as any mother's love. He woke in the Captain's cabin on the most comfortable bed in the world. In truth, it was a lumpy old cot set across from the Captain's bed, but Peter had been sleeping in filth for months, so _any _bed would have been deemed the most comfortable in the world.

Wendy and Tiger Lily had treated the boy's wounds after Captain Hook had amputated the boy's right hand to save his life. Hook could not forgive himself for showing up to the battle so very late into it. He was no real help, he thought, to which his wife had argued in the alternative stance until her voice was hoarse. Peter would have died, if not for Hook, and the battle would have been for nothing. Ah, but Rufio would have still died, the Captain would counter, and that was _something_. Wendy could not rejoice at the boy's death, for all of the evils that had burned inside of him. Rufio had fought the battle between moralistic sensibilities and true evil and had lost. She mourned the loss of the innocent child she knew he had once been. But Peter was safe, Haystack and Felicity were safe, her baby was safe, her husband was safe, and she was safe. She was safe. The past few months of fear and worry were over. They could start over.

/

"James?"

Wendy entered her husband's cabin tentatively, her eyes searching the darkness for him. She found him, sitting on their bed, staring blankly ahead of himself. Peter was on the decks, walking and enjoying the sea air under the care of Mr. Smee. Husband and wife were alone. Images of the passionate acts they could perform, even in their shortly allotted free time pulsed in her mind. But, since the end of the battle and the assurance of their continued safety, Wendy had not had time to spend more than brief, passing moments with her husband. They needed to speak, to reconnect.

"James," she repeated, "James, speak to me."

He glanced up at her, his eyes unsure, his face unshaven and scruffy.

"Wendy?"

She blew out the candle she carried and flew to him; enveloped him in a warm embrace, knowing where he was by his ragged breaths.

"What ever is the matter, James?"

He shook his head.

"Remembering my first few days without my right hand. Hating myself for not returning to help you sooner. Wishing I had told you where I had gone so you knew I was not abandoning you."

She smiled softly, ran her soft fingers through his tangled hair.

"_James_. I could never think ill of you. I'm sure wherever you went, you had good reason to go there."

"London."

She was confused, her face reflected it.

"London? What ever for?"

He sighed, laid back on the bed, glad for the darkness of the room. He did not have to explain it to her shining eyes if the room was black.

"I wanted to ensure we had an option."

"An option?"

"A place to raise our child."

"We can raise our child under Tiger Lily's care."

"For how long, Wendy? For how long can we continue to live in stasis? There are only so many years Captain Hook can live in Neverland undetected. I fear for your safety, for the safety of our child…for our very lives, love. Please. At least consider the idea."

Wendy was silent for a moment before she took Hook's hand in her own. She looked into his eyes, instinctively knowing where they were, despite not being able to see them in the darkness of the cabin.

"If you believe this is the safest place for us, James, I have no argument. I only want to know that you will be happy in England. In growing old with me. I do not wish to be the thing that takes you away from eternal life as you are."

"Wendy," he said in earnest, "all that I am...all that I have become, is thanks to you. To live without you would be worse than death for me. You have made my life worthwhile, have made growing old seem an idea not so terrifying."

She nodded, he heard rather than saw it. They lay beside each other in darkness, his left hand grasping her hand tightly. They would return to England in due time. It was necessary. It was growing up.

/

"Wendy! Listen to reason, love!"

Wendy glared at her husband, who had just gotten through telling her she could most certainly _not _fit into her new gown. She had not gained that much weight in her pregnancy; of course not! She was only seven months along! She was still tiny, still svelte, still…the sound of tearing fabric cut through their room, nearly echoing its mocking reverberations through her skull. She stormed out of the largest of the three teepees provided for her family by Tiger Lily until such time as they could find a home of their own. After seeing how maiming Peter had affected him, despite the necessity of the action, Hook had been forgiven in the eyes of the Chieftess. The family: Hook, Wendy, Haystack, Felicity, _and _Peter, had been moved to the Piccaninny encampment a week after the battle which nearly ripped Neverland apart. At the moment, though, weight gain and raging hormones were ripping apart Hook's happiness. Wendy ran to Tiger Lily's tent, weeping and leaving her husband gaping after her. This pregnancy could not be over soon enough. He wanted his sweet, sane wife back.

/

/


	35. Chapter 35: Of Birthdays Old and New

_OF BIRTHDAYS OLD AND NEW_

"Aging is not lost youth but a new stage of opportunity and strength."

(Betty Friedan)

Peter was gone from their care, had left Wendy and Hook one afternoon without much pomp or circumstance while Wendy was still very much pregnant. He had stayed just long enough to heal and learn to adapt to his new life, but not long enough to feel he was a burden on the woman who was his savior and the pirate Captain to whom he was forever indebted. Peter remained in Neverland, despite Wendy's offer to bring him back to England when they returned there. He wanted to grow on his own. _Needed _to. Despite Wendy's protestations, he left. He would work in town, he told her, would grow up a strong man willing to protect the helpless and fight for _something_. His injury weighed on him heavily, especially given that he had to live through the infirmity under the watchful eye of the pirate whom he had caused the same pain to so many years before. Hook had forgiven him and told him so, but the thought still caused shame to raise to Peter's throat. He could not live under their care any longer. He was aging. He would be a man soon. Peter grew up.

Hook swore he could sense the boy's presence. Wendy chuckled to herself at his inflection when he spoke the boy's name; where his voice had once held a passionate hatred for the boy, it now held something akin to a melding of respect and knowing pity. Her darling Captain had grown up somehow. She laughed at the thought.

Despite Tiger Lily's offer to continue to house Hook, his bride, and their adopted little ones during Wendy's pregnancy, the pirate Captain was still too proud to accept. He continued to work onboard the _Jolly Roger_, though he stayed on the ship only a few hours daily to keep the men appraised of his position and allow their morale to remain bolstered. They pillaged. They spied. They drank and laughed together, singing of the memories of the men who had died in their most recent battle. Wendy was not allowed on the ship in her condition, nor did she truly wish to return there, at least yet. She could imagine the ship as a source of happiness and joy, but her last memories on the deck of the _Jolly Roger _were not of the most pleasant variety. She needed time to _want _to return to the ship on which her love for her husband had first blossomed. Wendy _would _return to the ship; but it would not be until she and her family were set to leave Neverland forever. The thought terrified her.

A little house was purchased for Hook's growing family; from the front step, Wendy could have a full view of the _Jolly Roger_. It was comforting to have Hook so very close, even when he had other commitments to which he needed to attend. Haystack and Felicity seemed to grow taller and more rambunctious daily. It was all that Wendy could do to keep up with them, especially as her stomach continued to swell and her hormones raged with flushes of overheated lust, shivering coldness, and insatiable hunger for butterscotch candies. Hook did his best to correct all of her ragings as best he could, but he was, after all, only one man. And the minx continued to exhaust him so frequently, his men had taken to teasing him onboard the _Jolly Roger. _Had he not been so tired, he would have fought the disrespect more fervently; as it was, he laughed along with them and spoke to those pirates who had sympathetic ears to the tales of his adored, infuriating woman's mood swings.

/

A pain shot through Wendy the likes of which she had never experienced before. She awoke, clutching her swollen stomach, with a guttural moan. The sheets beneath her had been soaked through and she had the distinct impression that she needed to lie back and push. The baby! Captain Hook was awake and had brandished his blade before her pain-addled mind had made the connection. His fire-red eyes scanned their small room before settling on his pink-faced bride. She smiled at him through her agony.

"I believe we are to be parents tonight, James."

/

A screaming, squirming infant girl came into the world, into Neverland and the arms of the notorious Captain Hook, showered with laughter and the joyous tears of her parents. She was loved, _adored_, from the moment she first took a wailing breath of sweet Neverland air. Tiger Lily had aided Wendy in the delivery, and the new mother now sat up, nursing a calmed newborn. Though she was just breaths into her life, Jane was treasured. She had cried upon her releasing into the world, but had taken a calm series of glances at her father when she was not focused on wailing. Tiger Lily assured the Captain that babies could not see very well so early in their lives, but he did not believe her, for the child looked directly into his face with such an inquisitive concern that he felt the need to explain himself to her. He shook himself back to reality and the glowing mother of his child. He was loved, he had so many whom he could love. James Hook was home, so long as he remained with the glorious woman who gave him the squirming gift in her arms.

/

Off in the skeletonized remnants of the hideout of the defected Lost Boys woke a creature we had thought perished. But she had not perished, not for eternity, at any rate. The first bubble of laughter of a special child born in Neverland was needed to bring her back into the realm of the living. As the melodic notes of her first giggle left her throat, Jane Hook was responsible for the awakening of Tinkerbell. The fairy woke to agony, but also to the glorious realization that she was _alive_, which overwhelmed all other feelings. Her wings would grow back, though they would always be weaker than they once were. Terrified she would be discovered and attacked again, Tinkerbell decided never again to answer to her own name. But she would find Peter and make sure he was safe. His childish memory was so scattered that she was sure she could convince him that she was his fairy, but of a different name. _Esmerelda_. Hadn't she always wished for that to be her name? She decided her fate with a nod. Esmerelda it was.

/

Jane was now four years old. She was gloriously curious, her blue eyes sparkling whenever something caught her attention. When something _did _garner her attention, she was off in a flurry of auburn hair and rosy cheeks. She had a confidante in her older sister, Felicity, who was six and well-versed in all of the glorious interest in Neverland. They had lived in the outskirts of town without trouble until the girl had reached an age where Wendy felt comfortable traveling between worlds. Felicity was eager to get a taste of London. She had heard her father, for that was what she called our dear Captain Hook, tell stories of bakeries and towers and bridges falling down! What a _wonder _it would be to see all of that with her very own eyes!

During the last stretches of their time in Neverland, the family suffered a devastating loss. Haystack had vanished in the night. They searched for days with no trace of him until a breathtaking teenager knocked on their door. Tiger Lily's daughter, Willow, informed the couple that Peter Pan had been sighted again, flying around Neverland, younger and more carefree than ever. _Impossible_, thought Hook, but Wendy's heart soared. A crowing was heard in the distance, different in tone, but identifiably the crowing of an ever-youthful Pan. Wendy knew Haystack was safe. He was the Pan now. And Peter, the _real _Peter, was growing into a strong young man…he was 16 now, or appeared so, at the very least. Wendy had passed by him in the marketplace not a month before; he nodded to her, his left hand touching the brim of a large captain's hat, his hook sparkling in the light. A few inquires had been made; Mr. Smee admitted to the Captain that the boy had asked to serve on the _Jolly Roger_, but was told he needed to be…or _appear_ older. So, Peter would return to the ship when his body revealed itself as that of a 21-year-old. His hair, which had formerly been glowing and blonde, had darkened considerably, likely due to the horrid history that he had suffered before truly growing up. It fell in ringlets of darkening auburn curls, which he held back with a black ribbon. Wendy smiled at the recollection. Neverland would continue as it had before, though the players had changed, the story remained the same.

Wendy had planned their removal from Neverland to occur on Jane's fourth birthday and, now that it had come, she doubted her decision. It was not that she did not want to grow up; no, Wendy was of that breed that _liked _to grow up. It was simply that…she…she sighed. She was terrified that she was consigning her daughters to a life without adventure or magic. Captain Hook stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her still-thin waist, a kiss pressed to her shoulder.

"I have a secret, my love, which I feel I must relay to you."

"It cannot wait? We must finish packing our things and bake a cake for Jane before we leave tonight. James, I am in no mood for surprises, please."

He smiled, his mustache twitching against her skin.

"You never make _me _a cake for my birthday."

She turned and stuck out her tongue at him.

"_You _never told me when your birthday is!"

"You could make a cake randomly, hoping that its baking date falls on the happy occasion of my birth."

She growled her frustration and moved to leave their bedroom. He pulled her back, his left hand around her wrist, his hook pressing against the small of her back.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because you adore me."

"I do. But I do not wish to be forever baking cakes simply because I adore you."

He laughed.

"Touché."

"Will you not just tell me?"

"Guess."

"I do not have time for games, James."

"Just one guess, if you're wrong, I won't trouble you again for a cake."

"But I _want _to know your birthday!"

"Then you had better guess correctly."

She pondered, a small wrinkle forming on her otherwise smooth brow. He kissed it.

"I'll give you a hint. It happens to fall on the same day as our daughter's day of birth."

Wendy's eyes flared.

"Today?"

"You guessed!"

"James!"

He smiled wickedly.

"Don't be cross with me, poppet."

She rolled her eyes.

"What was your surprise, James?"

He grinned.

"I was going to tell you it was my birthday."

She blanched.

"You were…? You were going to tell me it was your birthday, without running me around the bush as you just did?"

He nodded. She shook her head, her eyes bulging slightly, unbelieving.

"You are insufferable, James."

"You love it."

She held back a smile.

"I do not."

He kissed her, she relented. They fell to their marital bed where his eager fingers found respite from the cool air between her warm thighs.

"My Wendy. How I do love you."

"Shut up and kiss me, Captain. The children will be returning soon and I have a pair of cakes to bake."

/

/


	36. Chapter 36: Growing Up

GROWING UP

"In the glow of those twinkling lights  
>We shall love through eternity.<br>On this night in a million nights  
>Fly away with me.<br>I never dreamed that a kiss could be as sweet as this,  
>But now I know that it can.<br>I used to wander alone, without a love of my own  
>I was a desperate man.<br>But all my grief disappeared and all the sorrow I'd feared  
>Wasn't there anymore,<br>On that magical day when you first came my way  
>Mi amor."<br>(Andrew Lloyd Webber/Tim Rice, _Evita_, _On This Night of a Thousand Stars_)

We meander through the streets of London. A couple stands out, dressed in wedding clothes. Captain Hook, despite making an honest woman of his bride before bedding her, had decided that the simplicity and violence of their sea marriage was _not_ how he wished his beautiful bride to remember their union. Despite everything they had been through, despite the battles and the orgasmic bliss he wrought from her body and, most importantly, despite the wondrous child they had created together, Wendy still blushed as she vowed to honor and obey her Captain. They had assured the minister theirs was a simple renewing of vows; the ample coin in his purse did not allow him to debate the truth of that assurance. Wendy was dressed in a white gown with a pink sash, her husband in a crimson suit jacket and black pants. She kissed her husband soundly on the lips before kissing Jane and Felicity on their flower-covered heads. Wendy was gloriously contented and they returned to her childhood home, now _their_ home.

The years in Neverland had passed more quickly than they had in London; Neverland years were always tricky things. For many, it had seemed only a few months since Wendy had left, but, since the only person who truly noted her removal from society was her father and his mind was otherwise occupied, no one made comment on Wendy's expanded family. Mr. Darling had tired of stairs. A stroke during Wendy's absence had rendered him slightly more inclined to avoiding the contraptions altogether. With the fortune he had amassed, the dear Captain helped his father-in-law to retire to a tropical shore in Tortola, in a one-story home staffed with aides enough to help him recover as best he could. The family Hook was blissfully happy; Felicity was eager to start school, though Wendy advised her she was still too young for the venture. Another year, perhaps, and then they would consider it, until then, they would school the pair of them at home. They were content with their family and, as fortune did not desire to give them any more children, they traveled extensively and played together in joy and love for two glorious years.

Then came the war; the world quaked, the heart of England begged for defenders ready to take up arms against the oppressors. Brave man that he was, James Hook sprang to action, only to be respectfully denied the ability to serve based on his…impairment. Never had he felt as worthless as he did walking into their home with the knowledge that his homeland believed him to be a liability instead of the powerfully villainous and woefully deadly force of nature he knew himself to be. Wendy instinctively knew what had happened, hadn't indicated her knowledge in the slightest, but suggested that a trip to visit her father in the Caribbean might do them all a bit of good. Felicity was overjoyed at the prospect, Jane young enough to be advised of how _wondrous_the beach was by the older girl, and James accepted the idea with a pang of guilt and a secret desire to feel the swell of the ocean rocking his ship as tropical breezes caressed his still-black curls of hair. And so they went and remained safely away from the burning world until Mr. Darling's humours finally gave way to grave illness. He was buried at sea, as Hook proclaimed to his wife was his own desire; her father's death certainly solidified in Hook the truth of his own mortality. He did not mention his fears to her, he did not need to, she knew. Wendy always knew; the time for fond remembrances of a land beyond their reach was over; they had to return to their true lives, and that meant returning to England. The war had ended. It was a glorious spring and the motherland beckoned them. Hook sold his deceased father-in-law's estate and they traveled back to their home and that little nursery wherein our Wendy's story began so many nights ago.

Now skirting the glorious age of ten, Jane's limbs began to resemble the foal-like awkwardness her mother's had once held and her odd-inquiring look sparkled with imaginative mirth. She danced about her bedroom one lovely spring evening upon their return to England. Her bed and that of her nanny (who had the warm spring evening off) were the sole beds in the nursery; Felicity had expressed her desire for a grown-up lady's room out of the nursery now that she was such a grown-up girl. Wendy had stifled her laughter at the oh-so-grown-up twelve-year-old in her midst and had given her the room in which she had spent her young adulthood. Hook and Felicity were in the parlor downstairs, going over the latter's expected expenditures for her next school semester abroad; her adoptive parents had begrudgingly agreed to send the girl to Paris to fill out her education now that the world was again safe for adventures of the more mundane variety. Wendy remained upstairs with her daughter, regaling her of the story of Peter Pan.

Jane's eyes sparkled as she heard the story of Peter Pan and the mermaids. Her mother's story was vivid and wondrous. Jane could almost _smell_ the sea air, almost hear the mermaids laughing and tittering in their melodic voices. She could _almost_ sense these things…but almost was not sufficient enough. She wanted to see Neverland for herself. To smell its magical air, to hear the quiet chanting waters that surrounded the island.

"Mother? Do you think _I_ could ever go to Neverland?"

Wendy pondered for a moment, and then smiled. The girl often wished to discuss her possible adventure to Neverland. But Peter Pan was now Captain of the Jolly Roger, and Wendy very much doubted that Haystack would deign to return and steal her daughter away, even for a spring cleaning. Where was the harm in encouraging a little dreaming?

"Perhaps. You know, I think this was the nursery upon which that golden boy alighted one night."

They discussed Peter's lost shadow and they crowed together, Wendy hoping against hope that her darling Captain was too hampered down by Felicity's demands to hear that hated sound. With great difficulty, Jane had been put to bed and she slept, soundly, Wendy watching her intently from the floor by a still-burning fireplace. The window blew open; it _couldn't_ be.

Haystack looked a near-perfect replica of the Peter of old; his hair was wild and blonde, his face tan and bright. Esmerelda, as best she could, flitted around his shoulders, sprinkling glowing fairy dust in her wake. In his mind, Haystack was Peter Pan, and, for all intents and purposes, he was. He had his memories, his gifts, his fairy, and with these things came an intrinsic forgetfulness that helped him avoid any unpleasantries. He truly thought he had come upon Wendy oh so many years ago and had returned to bring the girl-child back to help him again. Wendy found herself terrified of ruining his childish beliefs or images of her, borrowed as they may be. Haystack begged her not to turn up the light, so scared was he that his fears that Wendy was _old_ would come true.

She was old. At least in his childish mind. And in their discussion and Haystack's crying, Jane awoke. He introduced himself as Peter Pan. She could barely contain her excitement and, despite the worries of the mother, flew away to Neverland and pirates and adventures and mermaids and _youth_. Captain Hook stood in his daughter's door way watching his daughter fly out of the window to his former home. He knew his Peter was captain of his ship, knew that Mr. Smee would recognize Jane as the daughter of the storyteller without a moment's pause. He had no doubt she would be safe and would return safely to them. But watching her fly out the window was difficult, even for his staunch soul. He lifted Wendy into his arms easily. Her eyes welled with tears and she rested her head in the crook of his neck.

"Oh, James. She is so very young for Neverland."

"It is safer that way, my love, as well you know. You weren't too far off of her age when you first traveled to its shores."

"I know. But she is ever so much _younger _than I was at that age."

He chuckled and carried her to their bed. They lay together, bodies wrapped in a warm embrace, the Captain whispering assurances to his Wendy-Lady before taking her to the heights of passion. A sweetly exhausted slumber took over their bodies, though Wendy found herself sneaking to the nursery when a chiming clock awoke her to the presence of the four-o-clock morning hour. Jane had returned. Haystack had brought her home as safely as her wonderful Captain had promised. Neverland springs were different, one knows.

/

The Captain and his bride remained gloriously in love and quite actively intimate even as their bodies grew smaller and more greyed. Hook aged well and continued to be an epitome of health for decades after their return to England; the years in Neverland a residual source of freedom from the ravages of age…or slowing of their development. For her part, Wendy remained beautiful even as her skin wrinkled and her bright eyes dimmed ever so slightly. They remained in their little home until they departed from the mortal coil, though their lives were supremely long and fulfilled. When Hook's day of reckoning came, he was ready to join his bride, who had preceded him to heavenly glory only days before. With her picture clutched in wrinkled hand and his hook unused on her night table, Captain James Hook breathed his last.

But happier memories remain still and echo into eternity! While they lived, Wendy loved her Captain and he loved her in return, perhaps even more fervently because he had spent so very many years unloved. Jane grew up and had a daughter of her own. When Jane's husband was killed en route home after the end of the Second World War, she and her daughter moved into her childhood home. Wendy assured her that it was a great help to them as their steps had slowed slightly and the sound of joyous laughter in their halls again may be just the thing to keep them spry.

Wendy, as always, was correct. Jane's return to their home filled it with fresh laughter and joy once again. Though they loved each other with a passion unmatched, Hook and Wendy adored their granddaughter. Despite his long history of piracy and villainy, Captain James Hook was an _excellent_ grandfather and doted on his sole grandchild with an overwhelmingly charming attentiveness. He spoiled her with butterscotch candies daily and a white pony on her seventh birthday. She deigned his name was most surely Chauncey and he was a he, despite Hook's assurance that he had, indeed, purchased a mare. Where they would put said pony was a question to be answered later. Margaret, for that was his beloved granddaughter's name, did not laugh at his stories of piracy as her mother did, nor tell him to hush when he sang songs he said he learned on the high seas. No, Margaret was a girl after Captain Hook's once-blaggard heart. She fancied herself a real pirate and said she wished to fight on the Jolly Roger one day, if only she could find a way to Neverland. With a twinkle in his still forget-me-not blue eyes, Captain Hook assured her that one day she may find herself whisked away to that strange land where pirates and mermaids live and where a wondrous, eternal boy flew through the air, uncaring and free. And so she did. As did her daughter after her, _"and so it will go on, so long as children are gay and innocent and heartless." _

-_THE END_-

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_Thank you for taking this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it.  
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_The last quote is from J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan. _


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